Scars
by Banana Kisses
Summary: AU. "Her rule would be a game of predator and prey, and this time, it was her turn to play the predator. It was her time to pull the reins. She would tell them what to do. She would control them, and they would obey her orders without question. After all, was it not within her right?" (A different take on the Lunar Queen's story.)
1. Prologue

**(Note: Many edits have been made to this fic since I originally published it. ****All wrong names have been corrected with canon ones. ****It's very, very AU and was written before I read _Fairest_.) **

* * *

**—****PROLOGUE****—**

_The wicked younger sister was banished permanently in the moon, never to be seen or heard from again._

* * *

Once upon a time, there was the Earth and the Moon. On the Moon, there was a small country named Luna. A colony of mutated humans, it has prospered without war for hundreds of years. The Lunar people were a strange civilization, one where the citizens could manipulate and control the minds of others at their whims. They called this their 'glamour': the ability to twist and alter the bioelectricity of any human being.

_(control them, yes, control them all, they are your pawns you are the queen)_

This power made them a savage and cruel people, most abusing it to use to their advantage. They were despised and hated by the Earthen people for this very reason, and were forbidden by law to ever set foot on Earthen soil without authorization. The Lunars felt the same way about the Earthen, believing that they were weak and stupid due to their constant wars and conflicts. The Lunars never had uprisings and riots, the royal family using their extremely powerful and persuasive glamour to keep their people in check.

_(you are queen you rule your wish is their command)_

The current reigning queen of Luna was, at the same time, both a respected and resented figure. Seemingly cold, cruel and heartless, she was the very image of physical perfection. Beautiful beyond words and always poised and graceful, she was sharp, intelligent and deceptive, never hesitating to manipulate others to get her way. Her face was always an emotionless mask, only showing the rare signs of anger, annoyance or amusement.

However, everyone knew that this was only an illusion, that the queen didn't really look like she made herself appear. No one knew what she really looked like and frankly, no one cared. It was normal on Luna to use one's glamour to make themselves look different. In fact, it was hard for Lunars to not use it without suffering drastic health problems such as madness and hallucinations.

_(wear a mask, never let them see you, the real you)_

Although the queen was extremely powerful, she still had one major weakness: mirrors. Mirrors were her greatest fear. Not the Earthen, not the shells—Lunars born without glamour, and not even the idea of rebellion. It was mirrors. Such a simple but influential thing. She hated them and feared them. She had all of them removed from her palace as soon as she came to power, never wanting to look at another one of the cursed things again. Most Earthen thought it was silly, believing it just to be another part of the twisted Lunar culture. Their glamour could not fool mirrors, therefore they were considered annoying and revolting. To present a Lunar with a mirror would be the same as delivering a slap to the face for no good reason.

_(keep your power never let it slip they__'__ll hate you) _

Most of her subjects thought it was just about their queen's vanity, that she could not stand to look anything less than stunning. Seeing her true reflection would disgust her and make her lose hold on her glamour, showing her true features. It was considered normal for Lunars to make themselves look more beautiful than they really were, to look more aesthetically attractive.

_(You__'__re ugly so ugly no one will ever want you you__'__re hideous)_

No one knew the real reason why the Lunar queen feared mirrors so much. It was not about vanity, for she could look at herself in a mirror for hours and still manage to keep up the illusion. She just couldn't help it: the words 'conceal, don't let them see' were ingrained in her mind permanently, forced there for years by her deceptive, cruel and manipulative family. She could not take it down even if she wanted to, afraid of the judgement and ridicule that she would receive if she let her guard down for even a second. They had made her believe that looking different was one of her greatest weaknesses, and that the people would hate her for it. They had her convinced that she was ugly, that no one would ever see past her face. That she was worthless and pathetic, horrible and ignorant.

_(don__'__t slip don__'__t go they__'__ll all laugh at you)_

No, it was not at all about vanity. When she was younger, she actually considered herself to be quite beautiful, with her wavy auburn hair and her dark onyx eyes. In fact, she still would be if it weren't for the dozens and dozens of scars that lined her face and body. Scars caused not by accidents and attacks, but inflicted by her own family. Her childhood was nothing but an endless beating, both physical and emotional.

_(you deserved it you know you did you sorry excuse for royalty)_

She couldn't stand to look at herself because the memories were just too painful to bear. Whenever she even caught a glimpse of her true reflection she had to fight back the urge to break down and have a full out panic attack. Every scar, every gash reminded her of those endless nights begging for help that would never come. Taunts and insults and pranks with no limit and unimaginable cruelty. Tears shed until there were none left. Tortured to the point of both physical and emotional numbness. A lifetime of loneliness and hatred, being ridiculed everywhere she went. Even those who were most loyal to her had caused her pain, had ignored her pleas and cries, had never considered for even a moment that all she wanted was a friend, _someone_ to just stop and _listen_.

_(no never no one cares about you you__'__re so worthless)_

No one knows who the queen really is. Even her head thaumaturge, Sybil Mira, who had been her sister's lapdog since they were children, did not know the whole story. She had been part of what happened in the daylight, when the castle was up and everyone was awake. She had been the one to deliver the punches, which were nothing compared to what the queen's sister and parents would do at night behind closed doors, when everyone was safe in their beds. They were monsters, the things of nightmares. The poor girl had no greater fear than of them and what they were capable of, especially her sister's legendary glamour.

_(you__'__re so weak you pathetic snivelling child you stupid stupid girl)_

She could also never forget the night she became a monster herself. She had killed a person that night, and although that person was evil beyond recognition, it did not excuse what she had done. She had been living with the guilt ever since, prominent burn scars on her left cheek as a constant reminder. Although she could not see it, she felt it every time she rubbed her hand against it, the shrivelled skin sticking out with its rippled texture.

_(see I told you you__'__re ugly you__'__ll never be pretty you__'__ll never be one of us)_

Her dark and painful past had hardened her heart until it was nothing but a dark, barren stone. She became a statue: stiff, emotionless and unfeeling. Her life had been filled with nothing but despair. The one small ray of sunshine that she had found had been ripped away from her in the cruellest way possible. Her little princess, her darling Selene. Gone. Dead. For thirteen years she had been plagued by nightmares of the fires, the screams, her sister's cruel smile lit up by the haunting flames. The way she looked at her as she held up a box of matches in her hand, waving it in front of the queen's face as if daring her to attack. The last mocking, guttural, hacking laugh as she was burnt alive, pushed into the fire by the rage-crazed queen.

The last soft whimpers of a little girl crying out for her mother, her protector, the one who couldn't save her. The child that the heartbroken queen thought that she would never see again.


	2. Chapter 1

—**BOOK ONE****—**

_The elder sister, the sun, was worshipped and glorified, while the younger, the moon, was shunned and ignored._

* * *

was that time again. The anniversary of when King Marrok rose up to power. Ten years ago, he was still just a mere prince, barely able to claim his crown.

But now, April would also be the month marking his second child's birth.

It had been at least a day since his wife had went into labour. A day of having to endure the screams coming the hospital ward in the palace. Two days with absolutely no news whatsoever. A day of having to endure his eldest daughter's persistent questions, wondering where her mother was.

With Princess Channary, it hadn't been nearly as long or tedious. He was afraid of losing his wife and more importantly, his child. His son, his little prince.

They didn't know for sure, but ever since Channary was born, they had desperately wanted a little boy. A fine young prince that would someday rule Luna as a strong and powerful king. They had even thought of the perfect name—Prince Lukas of Luna. Once they found out that Queen Jannali was pregnant, they were ecstatic. Channary wouldn't stop talking about her new baby brother. The five year-old princess came up with a list of over fifty names for the baby, most of which were quite silly, such as 'Teeny' and 'Booboo'. He chuckled as he remembered his daughter's disappointed face when he told her that they couldn't name him 'Prince Muffinman'.

"Your Majesty?"

The king snapped out of his thoughts with a jolt. His heart nearly leaped out of his chest as he turned around. "Don't scare me like that!" he shouted, trembling slightly.

The maid who had snuck up behind him bowed curtly. "My sincerest apologies. I just came at Her Majesty's request. She would like an audience with you."

He blinked. "What is it? Is she hurt? Is my son hurt? Is he…dead?" His blood had started to run cold at the thought of his little boy being stillborn.

The maid held out a hand. "Calm down, Your Majesty. Both Queen Jannali and the baby are perfectly fine. Come with me, for she wants to introduce you to your child," she said, with a nervous smile. Marrok was too relieved to notice it, however. He bluntly dismissed her and nearly ran into a wall as he stormed down the halls to the hospital ward.

The deserted maid huffed slightly, blowing a lock of platinum blonde hair from her face. "How rude," she grumbled.

Marrok was panting by the time he got to his wife's room in the hospital wing of the vast palace. Even in his excitement, he took a moment to catch his breath before opening the sliding door. As soon as he entered the room, he noticed a very angry looking Channary pouting in a corner. Her arms were crossed over chest and she was letting out big huffs, an obvious plea for attention. Dismissing it as punishment for being too rough with the baby, he looked over to his wife. She was in a seated position, holding a little white bundle in her arms.

She looked terrible—she had huge bags under her eyes, her face was pale and clammy and there were still blood stains on her blanket and nightgown, despite the midwives' effort to clean her up. Her dark hair was tangled and her dark eyes looked cloudy, as if she were about to pass out.

"So? How is my wonderful new son doing?" Marrok asked cheerfully, not noticing the queen's distasteful expression. She let out a deep sigh.

"No, not your son, your daughter, and she is fine."

A moment of silence.

"_What._"

Jannali glowered. "You have a little girl, Marrok. A princess."

The king's expression darkened. He looked over to his wife and asked her to give the child to him. She was happy to oblige. He pulled back the blanket and looked at the baby girl. She was tiny, born a bit underweight. Her face, although chubby, had a distinct heart shape to it. She had a cute button nose with a splash of freckles covering her cheeks. A thin tuft of auburn hair covered her head. When she opened her eyes to look at her father, the king saw his wife's charcoal ones copied into her face. She blinked them quickly, gazing at him, her expression full of wonder. Although she was cute, she was nowhere near as beautiful as her sister, with her shimmering golden hair and chocolate brown eyes.

The king sneered. He was angry, disappointed, and confused. He had wanted a son! A prince! Not this...child.

He grit his teeth. "I can't believe this..." He gave the baby a cold, hard glare, making her cry before shoving her back into his wife's arms. He then stormed out of the room, stomping down the palace hallways while the servants stood clear of their furious ruler.

Queen Jannali slumped back on her pillow, so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. Normally, she would've gone after her husband, but she was just too exhausted. The grueling two days of physical exertion had left her incredibly weak.

And she had her second daughter to thank for that.

The midwives in the room could all see the queen's exhaustion. Coming to her aid, one of them and took the baby from her so she could rest. She hummed a soft lullaby into the infant's ear until she fell asleep. The queen let out a tired sigh. Finally. She could find peace and quiet. And maybe, just maybe, she could escape to her dreamland, where it was just her and her books. And maybe a few friends, if she still had any.

Unfortunately, Princess Channary had other ideas. She was just as mad the fact that she had a sister instead of a brother as the king was. She decided to make this fact quite clear by getting up and throwing a huge tantrum.

"But you said I was getting a brother! A boy! Mommy, I don't want a stupid little sister. All she'll do is steal my dresses and my dolls! She'll embarrass me in front of my friends with her ugliness! I want her gone!" Channary screeched.

The queen mustered the energy to give her daughter the mother of all death glares, pinching the bridge of her nose with her pale fingers. She was so tired. She had absolutely no patience for the princess' wailing and complaining.

"Channary, please, don't start."

"BUT I DON'T WANT A SISTER!" Channary screamed on the top of her lungs. A few of the midwives flinched back. The one holding the newborn quickly backed away, cradling her protectively.

"Malissa, would you please escort Channary back to her room? Her complaining is really exhausting," she called out to her head maid in a raspy voice. The maid smiled and nodded, taking Channary's hand and leading her towards the door.

"NO! I won't go! You can't make me! I won't leave until you get rid of that dumb baby!" Channary shrieked hysterically. She sounded like a dying banshee.

The princess ripped her hand away from the maid's and glared at her. Before the queen could fully register what was going on, the maid was on the floor, writhing and wailing in pain. Channary was towering over her, her brow creased in concentration. Most Lunar children could only disguise themselves at her age, but the princess' glamour was the most powerful anyone had ever seen. At only five years old, she could already disguise, manipulate and see through glamour. It was nearly as strong as her parents', which was already stronger than the average Lunar's.

And Channary _loved_ to take advantage of it.

"PRINCESS CHANNARY LUCIA OF LUNA! STOP THAT THIS _INSTANT_!" Jannali roared, slight flecks of spit coming from her chapped lips. The action left her coughing and gasping for air like a fish out of water.

Channary let go of her hold on the maid's mind immediately, cowering back a bit. Her mother only used that voice when she was furious. The queen's yelling had woken up the poor baby, and she started to cry softly. The midwife started to hum once again.

"Sweet Crescent Moon…, Up in the sky…," she sang a few bars of a song, a lullaby that sounded new, yet familiar at the same time. "You sing your song, so sweetly after sunshine passes by..." The soft and comforting lullaby had managed to calm the baby, and she gurgled softly before closing her eyes once again. By then, Malissa had somewhat recovered from the assault, standing up and shuddering. The queen gave her an apologetic smile.

"Channary, please follow Malissa to your room. That is an order," she said calmly, trying her best not to faint from her earlier outburst. Channary hung her head and started walking towards the door.

"Yes, mother," the girl grumbled. Malissa opened the door and lead her out, the princess paying her no mind. The opaque glass door slid shut behind them with a soft click.

The queen let out a strained breath. She wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. Maybe if she did, none of the day's events would have ever happened. That would've been nice.

Unfortunately, there were still a few things to do. One of the midwives took out a netscreen and opened up a document for a birth certificate, the time of the baby's birth already recorded.

"Your Majesty, may I inquire the name of the young princess?" she asked. The queen thought about it for a moment. Unlike her husband, she wasn't completely certain that the child would be a boy, so she came up with a few girl names, just in case.

"Princess Levana of Luna," she mumbled hoarsely. With that, she sighed and closed her eyes, falling into a peaceful slumber for the first time in weeks.

* * *

A week after her sister was born, Channary had finally decided to go and see her for the first time.

She tiptoed through the nursery, afraid that even the slightest creak would summon her mother, who would just shoo her away. The princess grabbed a short stool from the corner of the room and placed it in front of the crib, mounting herself on top of it. She peered over. Levana was sleeping soundly, a baby blue blanket clutched in her relaxed fists.

"Pssst! Hey! Wake up!" Channary hissed, prodding the baby's face. Levana gurgled a bit before lazily opening her eyes. She smiled innocently at the sight of Channary looming over her.

"So. You're my new sister," Channary deadpanned. Levana made no sound.

Channary inclined her head, so that her waterfall of sunshine hair cascaded over her chest. "Since we're going to have to live together, it's about time that I set down some rules."

"Rule number one." Channary pointed a finger to herself. "_I_ am the crown princess. The throne is _mine_. You," she pointed her finger out towards Levana, "are the worthless spare. Therefore, you shall obey me, and I shall treat you like the peasant that you are. Understood?"

Levana cooed.

"Rule number two." Channary spun around, displaying her beautiful white sundress. "All my dresses are mine. All my shoes are mine. All my jewelry is mine. All my tiaras are mine. All my dolls and toys are mine. You are not to touch them. _Ever_."

Levana just stared at Channary.

"Ugh. You're so boooring," she huffed. The baby continued to stare at her.

Channary rolled her eyes. "You should know that you're probably the _stupidest _creature that I've ever met."

Levana giggled, holding her small hands out to her older sister. Channary's right eye twitched in irritation.

"Channary, darling, what are you doing?"

Channary jumped slightly at the sound of her mother's voice. She twirled around, clasping her arms behind her back, trying to look as innocent as possible. "Nothing," she said.

Jannali quirked an eyebrow. Channary huffed. It would take more than that to deter the queen. "I'm telling stupid here," Channary pointed a finger to the crib, "what the rules are."

Jannali placed a hand her hip. "Why are you calling your sister stupid?"

"Because I ask her questions and all she does is stare at me. It's stupid."

Her mother let out an exasperated sigh. "She's just a baby, Channary. She can't understand you yet."

"I wish she could. That way she'd know how stupid she is."

"Say 'stupid' one more time," the queen came forward and prodded Channary towards the door, "and you won't be getting any desert tonight. Now run along."

"But Mother—"

"Don't you have a music theory lesson to go to? We wouldn't want you to be late, now would we?"

Channary hung her head. "No..."

"Good. So go ahead, have fun. I'll see you at dinner later this evening."

Channary huffed and walked out of the room, grumbling audibly. Her stomping feet could be heard all the way down the hall. Jannali sighed and turned over to her youngest daughter, who was busy giggling and playing with her feet.

The queen smiled. "Oh, what am I ever going to do with you, Levana?"

Levana gurgled and held her hands out to her mother. The queen picked her up and cradled her to her chest, singing a soft lullaby to make her fall back asleep.

_"Come little children..."_

She planted a kiss on the baby's forehead.

_"The time's come to play..."_

Jannali gently placed her sleepy daughter back in her crib, taking great care not to hurt her. She imagined one of her china dolls that she would play with as a child, with flushed cheeks and bows in its silky hair. Soon, Levana's hair would grow long enough so that she could style it, and put bows in it as well.

Levana gripped one of Jannali's spindly fingers with her tiny hand, moving it up and down. Her dark onyx eyes were alight with curiosity. With her soft skin and already high cheekbones, Jannali knew that Levana would grow up to be stunning. Maybe, just maybe, even as beautiful as her.

_"Here, in my garden of shadows..."_

The queen slipped her finger out of the baby's grip, lightly running a perfectly manicured nail down her daughter's chubby cheek. She traced up and over, lightly touching her button nose.

"What a cute little doll..." she cooed. "Lovely and delicate."

Jannali pulled her hand away. Levana gurgled.

"You're nice and new." The queen cocked her head to the side. "It would be a shame if you were to become..._defective_." The last word carried a bit of a sneer, as if she were dreading the day that her shiny new toy would get scratched or broken.

Levana closed her eyes, once again clutching her soft blanket, as if it were a lifeline.

"Sleep well, my darling..." Jannali trailed off, laying a final kiss on Levana's forehead. She then left the nursery without a sound, closing the door silently behind her.


	3. Chapter 2

Throughout her childhood, there were many things that Princess Levana didn't notice. She wasn't particularly observant, never taking the time to really scrutinize her life, her home or her surroundings. She was too carefree for that. It was her nonchalance that prevented her from noticing the form in the shadows, the eyes that would watch her every move. It may have also been the way he hid, the way that he would avoid being seen. His speed, agility and finesse were impressive, and his glamour had also helped him keep a low profile. She never saw nor noticed him, although he was always watching.

_(who are you little boy why are you following me)_

He was a smug little six year old boy, the son of the most powerful man in the Lunar court. Training to become the captain of the royal guard, he resided at the Artemisia Palace, where he spent his days learning and working hard under the watchful eye of his mentors. Although he lived in the opposite side of the palace, in the guard's wing, he sometimes saw the two princesses going about their daily business.

The elder one, with her brown hair always tied in a braid, would usually carry around books and net screens. She spent most of her days studying in her private library, preparing for the day that she would take over Luna and become queen. She was snobby, arrogant and hard to stand, with her glamour so blinding that it could kill you on the spot.

_(never shall you speak to the princess stay away from her stay away)_

The younger girl, with her wavy auburn hair always kept down, was the one that he would see more often. She was bubbly, quirky and warm, hardly ever using her glamour on anyone. The four year old princess didn't really have any duties or obligations. It was one of the few perks of being a spare, she would tell herself. She never went anywhere without her stuffed bear named Astram, which was given to her for her first birthday by Malissa, the head maid.

He had never actually spoken to her, always opting to stay hidden, to watch her from a safe distance. He knew that her glamour wasn't nearly as strong as the crown princess', but he didn't want to risk getting punished. It was made quite clear from the beginning that he was to stay away from the royal family, to never interact with or bother them. How he desperately wanted to, though. The young princess, to be frank, intrigued him. He heard rumours about the way she was treated by her family, things that he had heard from the maids, whispered over laundry in the deep confines of the castle. Stories passed on behind gritted teeth by his fellow guards in training and the thaumaturges. It was a complete mystery to him, how she could be so bubbly and optimistic when she was always treated so badly. He wanted so much to talk to her, to get to know her.

_(oh yes how cute you are thank you for the flowers)_

Unfortunately, Levana was a royal and he was just another shadow, another spectator to the failure that was the young princess. Princess Channary would tell her that frequently, just to make her cry, to make her suffer. She would hit her and insult her whenever she messed up or tried to stand up for herself. She would make fun of her in front of her friends, to make sure that no one wanted anything to do with the girl. She used her as a test subject, a dummy to practice her glamour on. Levana was so alone. So utterly alone. Channary loathed her with every inch of her being, but the poor, miserable little girl always tried her best to please. Although she didn't know why her sister hated her so much, she would often dream about the day that Channary would tell her that she loved her, the day that she would give her a hug, the day that she would let her play with her and her friends. She never talked back, ever constantly helping, always obedient. Always trying to understand, to find her own place.

_(I__'__m going mad I want to be with you Levana you__'__re beautiful wonderful I want you)_

He would watch her from the shadows as she ran down the halls, talking and giggling to herself. He would gaze at her portrait for hours, daydreaming about her face, wondering what it would be like to be with her, to have her for himself. What first started as simple curiosity would eventually become a haunting, painful infatuation. What was once a harmless little crush would, with time, turn into a strong, overwhelming, destructive lust. She became his obsession, his pastime, his greatest desire. Although she never knew he was there, he still watched, still fantasized, still yearned for her attention.

_(I made you these chocolates I know how much you like them)_

As he got older, it became even more than that. He began to crave more than her attention, more than her time. He began to desire her touch. He watched as she grew from a stubby toddler to a beautiful young woman. Sure, she may not have been as gorgeous as her sister, but she was so attractive in her own way. All her awkward quirks and imperfections just made her all the more appealing to him. Eventually, she was all he could think about.

_(Oh I love you I want to touch you I want to be inside you please Levana)_

Her face haunted his dreams, and he saw her silhouette every time he closed his eyes. Although she was never as scandalous or as daring as Channary, the tasteful gowns and dresses that she wore for special occasions would always make her look like a goddess in his eyes. Whenever he caught even a glimpse of her, he let his eyes devour her form, always yearning for more. He would imagine what it would be like to have her, to see her completely, to take her. To make her _his_.

* * *

"You'll see, Astram. I'm sure that Channary and I will have so much fun! Maybe we'll play dress up, or have a tea party, or even go out in the city!" Levana chirped, her teddy bear bouncing against her hip as she skipped along down the hallway.

She stopped in front of a majestic golden door. Patterns of stars, crescent moons, and ancient Lunar runes were engraved into the shimmering metal, another reminder of the crown princess' superiority. Levana's bedroom door was the same as all the others in the palace: mahogany wood with a simple brass doorknob. It seemed that everything Channary had was better than what she had. She tried not to let it bother her, however, as she tapped a short but sharp knock on the splendid gold. She heard a few rustling sounds before the door opened, revealing the princess in all her beauty. Levana had always looked up to her older sister, mystified and enchanted by her apparent perfection.

"Good Day, Channary!"

Channary rolled her eyes. "Hello, Levana," she replied, her voice flat and dull. Her indifference was apparent.

Levana, however, was too excited to notice her sister's boredom. "So, what do you want to do? Play dress up? Explore the palace? I've always wanted to go to the catacombs. It seems so spooky down there."

The crown princess just sighed, tucking a loose strand of her chestnut hair behind her ear in one graceful gesture. Where Levana would most likely trip on everything, Channary seemed to have been carved out of the finest marble, a perfect statue. She was always poised, graceful and charming. The very image of perfection.

"I guess we could play dress up if you want. Come on, let's go in my room," Channary said, stepping back through the door into her magnificent chambers. Levana just stood there, mouth agape. She had never been in Channary's room since her sister made it quite clear that she was never to go in there without her permission.

The younger sister let out a giggle, skipping in merrily.

"If you trip and break something though, I swear, you _won't_ live to see tomorrow," Channary spat, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No problem!" Levana bumped the door closed with her leg. "I won't have any accidents, I promise!"

Channary grit her teeth. "Could you stop being so loud? You're like a chipmunk on helium," she grumbled.

Levana ignored her, instead opting to just stand and gaze at the architectural masterpiece. The room was at least twice as big as her own, with the walls painted various hues of gold, white and sky blue. On the ceiling hung a gorgeous crystal chandelier, and there was a fire burning calmly in the golden fireplace. The huge window was draped with beautiful velvet curtains and the clear double doors opened up to a glass balcony overlooking Artemisia, Luna's capital.

"Wow, this place is so nice!" Levana said in awe.

"I guess." Channary walked up next to her sister and eyed the object she had in her hands. "What is that?" She warily pointed a dainty finger to the stuffed bear.

"Oh, this? This is Astram, my teddy bear. I named him that 'cause his fur looks like the sky I learn about in my astronomy books. Don't you think?"

"I think," Channary said, plucking the bear out of her sister's hand, "that you should get rid of it. You're too old for these dumb _toys_, Levana."

"Hey! Give him back!" Levana whined, trying to match her sister's height. Channary just stood there, holding the toy above her head, way out of Levana's reach. She stared down at her younger sister with a mocking smile, clearly enjoying the teasing.

"What? Oh, you mean this?" Channary gestured to the bear, feigning innocence.

Levana clenched her fists and her teeth, in an unconscious battle stance, fuming. Her already low patience had drained away to nothing. She should have known that it had been a trap, that Channary was lying. She felt so stupid for falling for it.

"Give. It. Back!" she yelled, charging at the older girl. Channary simply laughed.

"Not so fast, _Levan__a,_" she sneered, prancing over to the fireplace. She dangled the bear by it's arm over the flames, the smell of charred fabric already starting to fill the room.

Levana began to sob. "No, please..." she hiccuped. "No! Please, Channary, don't!" Her voice rose to a scream, desperate.

With one final mocking laugh, Channary let go and dropped the beloved toy into the fire. Levana reacted immediately, pushing her sister aside and sticking her right arm in the flames, trying to rescue Astram.

The first thing that she felt was the heat. It was strange, feeling like an unwelcome pest on her skin. A few seconds later, she felt the searing burn. Through it all, let out a shrill, horrified, and tortured scream—the pain was blinding, unlike anything that she had ever felt before. It felt like someone was sawing her arm off with the dullest knife in the world. Every nerve was burning, breaking. Every muscle tensed to the point of tearing. She pulled her arm away, trying to douse the flames on her sleeve.

"Levana...your...your arm is actually on fire!" Channary laughed, standing by with her hands over her mouth. Levana continued to cry, waving her burning limb about, anything to stop the pain.

Once the flames were finally out, she tried to look at her arm, her vision blurred by the steady flow of tears that were running down her cheeks. After what seemed like forever, she finally managed to sneak a glance, nearly fainting at what she saw. The once-healthy skin was now black and charred, with welts the size of tennis balls. She fell on her back, white spots clouding her vision.

She could hear faint voices in the distance, people shouting and shoving. A sharp pinch came sudden and unwanted in her left arm. Levana tried to fight, but she was quickly held down by unknown hands. After a moment, a pleasant coolness rushed through her veins. The pain vanished, leaving her tired and weak. The darkness crept up on her, and, hoping that she'll wake again, she let it embrace her, going willingly to dreamland in its arms.

* * *

No matter how much she groaned internally, the annoying beeping sound would not stop. She tried to open her eyes, but they felt like they were glued shut. After much whimpering and mental complaining, she managed to pry them open, the bright light nearly blinding her. Levana attempted to sit up, but her head pounded, sending her back onto the pillow each time. Eventually, though, she was able to get herself into a seated position, taking in her surroundings.

_(stop making noise it hurts)_

She was in a white, sterile room, void of any charm or personality. There were IV drips connected to the crook of her left arm, feeding a bag of clear fluid into her veins. The little girl sat there, dazed, unable to understand why she was in such a lifeless room. Her chapped lips trembled. Where was her purple canopy? Why were there needles? What was that unknown weight at the end of her arm?

_(Ouch it__'__s hot please make it stop mommy daddy)_

Suddenly, the memories came flooding back, unbidden—way too much for the four-year old to fully comprehend. Through all the confusion, she managed to pull the pristine white sheets off of her body. A little whimper of fear and shock escaped her at the sight of her right arm. The strain of the weight made her cringe—for instead of soft white skin and a small, human hand, there was nothing but metal. Wires and screws and bolts that went from the crook of her elbow to the tips of her fingers.

_(what is this oh no what have I done no why)_

Only one word came to mind—cyborg. Part human, part machine. Put together with metal instead of flesh. Before, they were only the product of stories that Channary would tell to terrify her. Like vampires, or monsters, or wicked witches. A few tears rolled down her pale cheeks. Was she a witch now?

_(green soup witch__'__s brew yucky yucky yucky)_

"Ah, Princess. It's good to see you awake," a soft voice said, effectively snapping her out of her thoughts.

Levana looked up at the voice: a man of about twenty or so with sunshine blonde hair and gentle sky blue eyes. He was sitting in a chair next to her bed. She stared at him, her fear visible in her eyes. Her small body quaked.

The doctor smiled softly and put a hand on her shoulder. It felt strangely comforting. "My name is Dr. Sage Darnel. Is there anything that you need? Water? Painkillers?" he asked, concerned.

Levana simply shook her head, wanting to curl up in a ball and go back to sleep.

"Well, alright. Just comm me or any of my assistants should you need anything at all," he said. He then got up and left the room, leaving the sad and broken princess alone.

Levana laid her head back down on the pillow, tucking her knees into the fetal position. _Why did this have to happen? _She thought to herself. She was already ignored, shunned and hated, and now she could throw 'cyborg' onto her list of flaws. Machine. _Freak. _

_(Oh eww look at you freak monster you disgust me)_

Her nose soon became stuffy and runny, soaking her face along with the salt of her tears. Crying. Levana was tired of crying. Tired of being a 'crybaby', as Channary was fond of calling her.

After all, monsters don't cry...


	4. Chapter 3

A sharp knock broke the silence of Levana's concentration. Slightly annoyed, she

"Well, I wonder who _that _could be," she grumbled. Her metal fist tightened around the extra dark pencil that she held in her hand.

She wasn't in a very good mood at that time—it was one week past her seventh birthday. Although her parents had never celebrated it before, she still clung onto the vain hope that the next birthday would be different. That they would make her a cake, throw her a party. Heck, she would've been happy if they had even acknowledged the fact that it was her birthday.

_(happy birthday to me oh thank you very much I love the presents)_

Her days were filled with boredom. Having nothing to do, she decided to try and get a hobby. She had taken up drawing, and she was pretty good at it. Quite committed, she was seated at her desk, in the middle of a complicated sketch, one that she had spent hours on. Her metal hand was stiff and covered in graphite.

"If it's you, Channary, go away! I don't want you here!" Levana shouted, pressing harder onto the paper.

Malissa, the head maid and the only person in the palace that Levana really trusted, stepped in without a sound. Her long black hair was tied behind her head in a bun, the fabric of her uniform slightly baggy on her lithe figure. Levana's attention had turned back onto her drawing at that point. Malissa cleared her throat, making her presence known.

The princess blinked, dropping the pencil in her hand. Almost wearily, her gaze turned to the maid. "Oh, Malissa! I'm sorry. I thought you were Channary," she said meekly.

The maid chuckled a bit. "It's no big deal, Princess. I understand how you feel about your sister."

Malissa was Levana's nanny as well as the head maid. This was mostly due to the fact that she had been the only one of her peers who had been willing to take care of the princess. Most of the other maids had refused, after the awful, awful precedent that Channary had set. Ever since her birth, Malissa had taken quite a liking to Levana, loving her as her own daughter. She had always been kind to the girl, cleaning and bandaging the wounds that she would get from Channary's 'games', and would talk to and play with her, if she had the time.

Levana felt Malissa's soft hand on her shoulder. "Princess, your parents are requesting your presence in the main hall," she said sweetly.

Levana sighed. She was in no mood to see them. "Do I have to?"

"I'm afraid so, Your Highness. They also requested that you clean yourself up."

Levana looked down at herself, her eyes widening, taking in how messy she was. She hadn't really noticed before.

"Would you like me to help you get ready?" Malissa asked.

"Yes, please," Levana replied, hopping off her chair and heading over to her closet. Malissa followed her and picked out a nice violet dress, fancy but not too formal. After dressing her, Malissa helped washed her face and hands until they were free of graphite. As a final touch, Levana dug out a pair of cream coloured gloves, looking at them sadly before slipping them on.

Malissa noticed this, feeling a pang of sympathy for the girl. _Poor child_, she thought. It wasn't her fault, she hadn't chosen to be like that—she knew how much her sister made fun of her for it, how disgusting her parents thought she was. Pushing her thoughts aside, she escorted Levana down the hallways to the great hall, where her parents and sister were waiting. The princess' grip on the maid's hand tightened, growing more worried with every step she took. She moved skittishly, like a spooked deer.

"It'll be alright," Malissa whispered.

Levana gulped. "I'm scared..."

"Don't be."

Levana's lip quivered. Before long, they reached the large and ominous doors of the hall. Her heart sunk, afraid. She wanted to turn around and run back to her room, as fast as she could. Malissa took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before opening the double doors.

Standing at the end the hall were her parents, looking as regal and majestic as ever. The queen was wearing a tasteful emerald green gown laden with diamonds. Her hair was teased up into an elaborate updo, with a silver crown in her bun. The king was wearing his royal uniform, a coat of crimson red with black navy pants. His auburn hair was sleeked back and his crown straight and in place. His dark brown eyes were cold and unfeeling, like always.

Beside them was her sister, as beautiful as the rising sun. She wore a gold dress with her hair in its signature braid. A silver tiara incrusted with lunar diamonds rested amongst her bangs. Next to her was a girl Levana did not recognize. She was also beautiful, her eyes narrowed, slate grey and catlike. Shiny jet black hair cascaded down her back, and she wore a navy blue dress that fell just above her calves. Although it was simpler than Channary's gown, it still gave off an air of elegance and sophistication. Levana felt an instant distrust of the girl, not liking the way she was staring down at her.

"Levana, this is Sybil Mira. She is training to become a thaumaturge, and will be staying in the palace with us from now on. You are expected to be polite and welcoming towards her. Is that understood?" King Marrok said, staring at his youngest daughter with contempt. She squirmed under his glare.

"Yes, father," she said politely, although inside, she wanted to say 'absolutely not'.

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, your mother and I have some important business to attend to. You may stay here and introduce yourselves," he said, this time addressing both of his daughters.

"Thank you, father," Channary and Levana said in perfect unison. All three girls bowed as the king and queen left the room. Malissa had also excused herself, for she was needed in the royal kitchens.

As soon as the door was shut, Channary and Sybil both turned around to face Levana, and she couldn't help but feel intimidated by their stares. It probably didn't help that they were both way taller than her.

"Um..." Levana held her arms behind her back, swaying back on her feet. "Hello. It's...very nice to meet you," she said shyly, extending her hand towards the girl. Sybil hesitated for a moment, glancing at Channary. The crown princess nodded.

Sybil stepped forward, but before she did anything else, the slightly-too-big glove slipped off Levana's right hand, exposing her metal and bolts. Sybil staggered back a bit, a look of disgust smeared on her face. Channary looked mortified, her cheeks flaming as she held a hand over her mouth.

_(oh ew what a freak what a monster)_

Levana backed away, fumbling with her glove—quickly covering up her metal monstrosity. "I-I'm sorry, they, um, are a bit too big for big for me..." she stuttered, lowering her head in shame.

"A cyborg. How _quaint_," Sybil spat.

Levana didn't dare offer her hand again. She was too afraid.

"Don't pay the freak any mind, Sybil. Let's go, I'll show you around the menagerie," Channary sneered, her braid swaying with her movements. She shot Levana a look, as if to say '_don't move, or else..._'.

Sybil nodded, following Channary, and both girls snickered like little witches as they walked together towards the exit.

"Freak," Sybil sneered, barely holding back giggles. Channary then pulled her out of the room. The door shut with a dull click, and then they were gone.

Levana released a breath that she didn't know she was holding. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her stomach tied up in knots. Another potential friendship lost. Another name to add to her list of enemies. Another person who hated her.

_(come on what did you expect you know better you stupid girl)_

But really, she shouldn't have been surprised. If no one in the palace thought that she was worth anything, why would anyone else from the outside think otherwise? All she wanted was a friend, but maybe people like her weren't meant to be loved or appreciated. Maybe Channary was right. Maybe all she would ever be is a worthless spare, doomed to forever be a slave.

_(never get your hopes up you__'__ll just get hurt)_

"_Am I so wrong to wish that they would see things like I do?_" she mumbled the soft words of an old poem, one that the shunned moon writes to the exalted sun. A poem that she had read in one of her storybooks.

She tried to stay as composed as she could, standing there, wallowing in her own sadness. But she couldn't hold it back anymore, the familiar tears pricking the back of her eyes. She ran out of the hall, as if she were running from her nightmares, her life—and raced down the halls to her bedroom. Once there, she entered and slammed the door shut. Levana leaned against it, feeling empty, hollow.

_(oh god stop crying you crybaby you want your bottle and blankie you crybaby)_

The tears ran freely, soaking her gloved hands that were held over her eyes. She slid down the door, tucking her knees against her chest. Her voice cracked on her last words as she started sobbing uncontrollably.

_"And am I so wrong to think that they might love me too?"_

* * *

"You commed me, Princess?" Sybil asked Channary as she entered her bedroom. It had been nearly a week since she had arrived, already getting quite close to the crown princess. They went everywhere together, only separating to either go to training or studies.

"Just come here. I need to talk to you about something really important," Channary whispered.

Sybil, although confused, closed the door and came closer. Channary slid over to her desk and carefully pulled out a glass test tube from the top drawer, filled with some sort of liquid.

Sybil arched a slender eyebrow, eyeing it with curiosity. The liquid was dark blue, nearly black in colour and had a pretty thin consistency. As she got closer, she could smell it. It smelled horrible, reeking of death. Sybil gagged. "What the—"

"Don't get too close!" Channary warned, pulling the tube a bit farther away.

Sybil gagged again, sure that her breakfast was about to make a reappearance. "Stars, what is that stuff?!" she asked, eyes watering from the smell.

"I swiped this from Father's laboratory. It's a prototype for some disease that he's developing."

Sybil quirked an eyebrow. "What..._disease_?" she asked wearily, taking a step back.

"According to the reports," Channary waved an arm through the air, "The symptoms are really painful, and the disease is _super_-deadly. You get bruises, spots, fever, the whole works! It's called 'Letumosis'," she said, her voice oddly cheerful and excited.

"What in the world would you need this for?" Sybil asked, shocked. "Why are you playing around with such potent poison?!"

Channary smirked. "I have a plan for how deal with our little…_freak_," she said, putting the tube in a plastic box.

Sybil shook her head. "What does this disease have to do with anything?" Her eyes widened. "Wait…are we going to—"

"—poison her? Yes." Channary smiled. "Well, sort of. Just think of it as a fun little prank," she said with an air of innocence.

"But you said that this disease is extremely potent!" Sybil stepped back even more, her eyes wide as saucers. Her better judgement was telling her that it was a terrible idea.

Channary rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, _she_ won't die from it. Well, it's complicated. Basically, Father created the disease by mutating a common virus with his own DNA. Since both she and I share his DNA, we can produce the right antibodies to kill the virus. The recovery process is just very, _very_ painful."

Sybil stayed silent for a moment.

"You don't look too conviced," Channary accused, placing a hand on her hip.

"This seems really cruel, Channary. Even for you."

The princess' smile turned into a playful pout. "_Cruel_? Hardly." She sniffed. "Are you really going to wimp out on me, Sybil? I thought that we were partners in crime…"

Sybil sighed in abandon. "Well..." She ran a hand through her black hair, "Okay. I guess this one time is fine…how are we going to carry out this plan?"

Channary put her mouth to Sybil's ear. "Here's what we're going to do..."


	5. Chapter 4

Chocolate cake. It used to be Levana's favorite. She loved the tasty sweetness, the moist, velvet texture. She would make it for Selene all the time, with delicious chocolate icing. Now, she absolutely _hates _it. She won't eat it. Ever.

_(yum yum it tastes so good but it kills me)_

It was also the weapon that Channary and Sybil had used to poison her. To make her ill. To scar her for life. It was just a regular meal in the Artemisia palace. The huge table, way too big for the family of four, was laden with exquisite dishes, ranging from succulent meats to fine vegetable soufflés. Sybil had been invited to dinner that night, per Channary's request. Everything was going according to plan. Soon, they would have a new sick, twisted source of entertainment. Soon, they were going to have a sick little girl on their hands.

_(she__'__ll cough and cry and it__'__ll be so funny we__'__ll laugh and laugh Sybil you__'__ll see)_

After they had all finished their meal, desert was brought out by the servants. Levana's eyes lit up at the plate placed in front of her, holding a piece of luscious chocolate cake. As a belated birthday gift, her parents had a small one made for her. It wasn't much, but it was something. She let out a little squeal of glee before taking a huge bite. After a few chews, however, she stopped, and frowned.

"Papa, this cake tastes weird." Levana said, looking at the king, whose attention was focused on the documents displayed on a giant netscreen hovering above the table.

"How so?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know. It's just, well, _weird._"

She crinkled her nose. It even smelled off.

"Don't eat it, then," Marrok said, flicking across the screen once again.

Levana set down her fork, letting out a sigh. She had been looking forward to that cake all day. From the other side of the table, Channary and Sybil shared a quick smirk. Mission accomplished. It only took one bite. The virus was now in the girl's system, wreaking havoc.

_(It__'__ll only be a little while then we__'__ll have fun and watch the door would you I don__'__t want to get caught)_

Jannali glanced over to her daughter, picking up another piece of chicken. "Would you like anything else?"

"No," Levana mumbled, looking down at her lap. She then lifted her head towards her father. "Papa, may I please leave the table?"

"You may," the king said.

Levana got off her chair and made her way to the grand double doors, trying to be as quiet as possible. She slipped out, silent as a mouse. As she was walking down the halls towards her room, she stumbled over, a sudden dizziness making her head spin. She stayed there, on her hands and knees, waiting for it to pass, watching the floor move beneath her.

_(oh no not again I hate falling I hate feeling sick why now why now)_

After what seemed like hours, she managed to get back up on her feet, her body trembling. She looked around her: there was no one there, so she couldn't have been glamoured.

So why did she feel so..._sick_ all of a sudden?

Her body felt like a dead weight as she practically dragged herself back to her chambers. Closing the door behind her, she sighed, feeling faint. She was just tired. That's all it was.

Levana took a book off the vast bookshelf, at the end of the room opposite of the door, nestled between her vanity and a netscreen on the wall. She hauled herself up on her bed, plopping her head on the pillow. The sickness made its presence known once again—she only got to the third page before she broke into a coughing fit. Her throat was burning, aching, sore. It went on for hours, until she finally fell asleep, still fully dressed.

* * *

Levana was awoken a few hours later by sudden nausea, a tidal wave washing over her. She couldn't breathe, her head started to swim, and the bile rose in her throat. Quick as lightning, she slid off her bed, nearly falling flat on her face. Her hand clamped over her mouth as she ran to the adjoined bathroom. She barely had the time to make it to the toilet before she threw her guts up, tears streaming down her face. It was pure torture. Every time she felt like she was finished, she would gag and throw up some more. She could taste the bloody vomit in her mouth, the acid burning her throat.

_(oh eww it__'__s gross and it hurts I hate being sick it__'__s awful)_

Once she had finally finished, she got up and wiped the tears from her eyes. A cough escaped her lips, blood staining the pristine white gloves she wore on her hands. She stood there and stared at them, terror and panic overtaking her mind. The red scared her. The red was bad.

_(no no no no help me help me)_

Afraid, she stumbled out of her chambers, clumsily racing down the halls as fast as her shaking legs could take her. Tears blurred her vision, making her crash into the wall a few times. The corridors were strangely devoid of servants. Finally reaching the entrance to her parents' study, she wrenched the door open and barrelled into the room. Inside, the king was busy signing important documents and the queen was seated on her chaise, peacefully reading a book. They both jumped a little when they heard the door slam and their daughter burst in. Both royals frowned, and Marrok let out an irritated sigh.

"Levana, how many times have we told you to _knock_ before you come in here? What do you want?" he snapped. Levana came closer and held out her hands to him. His eyes widened at the sight of her bloody gloves.

"Papa, I feel really sick," Levana whimpered. She then coughed, a bloody dribble coming out of her mouth. She wiped it away. The king placed the back of his hand on her forehead, flinching as he did so. She was as hot as a coal stove. His eye caught on something—a dark spot below Levana's collarbone, visible just above the collar of her dress.

"Hold still," he said, reaching forward. Levana squirmed, trying to evade him.

"I said, hold still!" Marrok snapped. He grabbed his daughter by the wrist, swiped at the spot—and froze. No. It couldn't be. He reached again for Levana's collarbone and pulled the neckline of her dress down, revealing the entire spot in the room's light. A splotch of red, rimmed with bruise purple.

"Letumosis..." Marrok whispered in horror. His features changed, going from horrified to shocked to angry. He grabbed her wrists and started to drag her out of the room, his wife close behind them, looking confused. Levana let out a whimper.

"Damn it, Levana! I told you _never _to go in my laboratory!" he yelled, making Levana yelp.

"But, Papa, I never—"

"Marrok, what is going on? What's wrong with her?" Jannali asked warily.

"She needs to be quarantined. The letumosis prototype hasn't been proven contagious, but I don't want to risk it."

"Papa, please, what's happening? Where are you taking me?" Levana cried. Her father just growled and continued to pull her through the hallways, her mother following suit. The princess was sobbing and wailing, in obvious pain.

All the commotion had woken up Princess Channary, who was observing the spectacle behind one of the many marble statues that adorned the hallways. She chuckled softly, smiling at her handiwork. The disease had worked even faster than she had anticipated.

"What's with all the yelling?" a voice said, making Channary jump. She turned around and glared at the person behind her, who was none other than Sybil. She pressed a finger to her lips.

"Ssshhh! I'm trying to stay hidden!" Channary snapped.

Sybil lowered her head, apologizing.

Channary's gaze softened. "The disease is spreading faster than I expected. I just thought I'd come out and enjoy the show." Channary said darkly.

A grin spread across Sybil's' face. "Should we pay her a little visit tomorrow?" she mused.

Channary smirked. "That's a great idea. Well, I'm going to bed. Have a good night, _Thaumaturge Mira_." Channary said, walking away.

Sybil smiled at the title. "And a good night to you, Princess!" she called out, waving.

_(really Sybil this makes you happy what__'__s wrong with you)_

Once Channary was gone, however, her smile dissipated. She felt a familiar pang in her stomach, an annoying feeling that she was used to stamping down, as if it never existed. She gulped. She would never express this feeling in front of anyone, especially the crown princess. She hated feeling it's hollow pain, but she couldn't possibly deny it's existence.

She couldn't deny that she felt guilty.

* * *

Levana was asleep, tangled in a baby blue blanket. It had been four days since her father had put her in a quarantined wing of the hospital ward, and her condition was anything but better. The purplish blotches had spread up her arms to her face and there were bloodstains everywhere, from her hands to the sheets. Though she was shivering, her forehead glistened with sweat. Her fever had only gotten worse over the days. The little girl looked like an old woman, on the brink of death.

She was thrashing and kicking in her sleep, a terrifying nightmare overtaking her mind.

It started with the sobs, which rose up out of the darkness all around her like the gentle strings in an orchestra. They began as hushed moans choked back by the countless musicians that crafted them, merging together to create a fountain of sound that pounded relentlessly in her head. Next came the jeers, the tuneful taunts of 'freak' and 'worthless spare', which punctuated the sobbing like sharp blasts from trumpets. As the callous taunts grew in volume so did the cries, swelling into desperate wails hurled out into the night mixed with calls for help and pleas that were heartbreaking to hear. The insanity, the madness of the disease was claiming her soul, bit by bit.

_(no no go away you__'__re not welcome)_

Levana let out a harsh and shrill scream, the sound making her jolt awake. She sat there, amongst the sheets crawling with contagion, gasping. She was being punished for something. She had to be. She started to sob.

"I'm sowwy fo' all the things I did... Mama? Papa? Channary? Anybody! Plea-" Levana never got to finish her sentence. She bent over and coughed, blood spurting from her mouth and soaking her filthy nightgown. It dribbled from her lips to her chin. Her throat was sore and raw from all the coughing and screaming.

Outside the glass window of the quarantined room, the king and the queen stood, worried. Not so much for their daughter's safety, but more of the threat of an outbreak. Although the king and both of his daughters were immune, the other Lunars were not, including the queen. They couldn't let the disease escape.

At any cost.

_(what idiot would let this escape oh god no)_

"Marrok, what have you _created_?" Jannali gasped. She could no longer bear to see her daughter's pain, to watch her writhe and scream.

"Jannali, this disease is necessary for our mission. It will be our ultimate weapon—the thing that brings Earth to its knees," he muttered darkly. His wife hid her face in his neck, and he rubbed her back soothingly.

"It will bring us glory and power. It will make us the only rulers of the world," he muttered. "It will save us all."


	6. Chapter 5

_Downloading data for android personification..._

_Loading..._

_Loading..._

_Download complete._

_Change the code sequence?_

The green text scrolled across Levana's netscreen, every word fascinating her.

It had been four years since she had contracted the deadly plague, letumosis. She had begun to show signs of improvement after about a week of pain and madness. After two weeks, the only physical reminders she had of the blue fever were the few scars on her neck and arms. Luckily, there had not been any scars left on her face, and she had no permanent brain damage. She never found out how she actually caught the disease, only her cruel sister and her lapdog ever knowing.

_(daddy I__'__m better now I swear)_

Over the years, Levana had taken to mechanics and computer programming like a fish does to water. She loved bending the fabric of the net universe, changing it and controlling it at her whim. It gave her a sense of power, of control over something, the control that she could never have in reality. Where Channary controlled other people's minds, Levana controlled and befriended robots. She felt a special connection to them, her cyborg nature making them like an extension of herself.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard: Tip tip tap.

_Extracting_ _code sequence..._

Tap tap tap.

_Security warning: Changing of sequence can permanently damage android's functionality. Proceed anyway?_

Tap.

_Security override. _

_Loading..._

_This process requires net access. Connect? _

Tip tip tap tip.

_Opening sequence altering software..._

She searched through the net database until she found what she was looking for—the files for an android personality. She was creating her own companion, a perfect friend, who was kind, funny and loyal, with just a bit of an attitude. She would do this by taking the standard personality programming of a regular android and editing it, adding a 'glitch' of sorts.

_(yay a new friend I won__'__t be alone I hate being alone)_

She looked over to the white, gleaming body of the brand-new Mech6.0 model, a discarded gift from the European Federation. They had offered it to her father as a peace offering, the most advanced android of the time, but the king had just sneered and thrown it into the catacombs, where all the useless stuff went. Levana had fished it out, enchanted by the foreign technology that was just _calling_ her name.

She locked herself in her room, eager to get started on her newest project. It took three days, during which she only emerged from her room to sit for meals with her family and the occasional lesson.

_BEEP!_

Levana's head swivelled to the large netscreen.

_Process complete. Eject ROM chip?_

Tap.

_Ejecting..._

The personality chip clicked out of the system's ROM drive and landed directly into Levana's waiting palm. She held it up to her face, examining the small text that was engraved on it.

_Model Mech6.0_

_Made in 100 T.E._

_Serial: 245372415_

She was sitting cross-legged on her bed with the glass doors open behind her, allowing in a chilled but pleasant breeze, when she inserted the final touch. The small personality chip clicked into place and Levana held her breath, half-expecting the android to perk up and swivel around and start talking to her, until she remembered that she would need to be charged before she could function.

Feeling her excitement wane from the anticlimactic finale, Levana released a slow breath and fell back onto her mattress, mentally exhausted. Soon, she would have a friend. Company. Someone to have fun with, someone to talk to. She smiled at the thought.

She plugged her new android into its charging dock, sitting by and waiting patiently. Drowsiness started overtaking her exhausted mind, and before she knew it, Levana had slumped down on her bed, fast asleep.

* * *

_Hello?_

_Hello!_

A voice cut through Levana's hazy dream, the one word that she couldn't make out echoing in her head. She felt a sharp tap against her shoulder, and she mumbled a sleepy 'go away'. The voice, however, just kept on getting louder, until she could finally hear it loud and clear.

"Hello!"

Levana snapped awake, bolting upright, her eyes still half closed. She sighed and rubbed her eyes, the sleep slowly ebbing from her system. She glanced down. The android had woken up and disconnected herself from the charging station and now stood before her with her sensor faintly glowing.

"Oh, you're awake."

The android's single sensor glowed a light blue. "Hello! My name is Akiho." She looked around the room, blinking. "Where am I?"

Levana yawned and stretched her arms up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "You're in the Artemisia palace, on Luna."

"Luna..." the android trailed off, "that's strange, I don't remember leaving Earth."

She turned to face the girl, her sensor glowing, as if she were investigating something. Levana looked at her with curiosity. "How peculiar..."

Levana's face fell. "What?"

"Your face doesn't correspond to any profiles in my database. Who are you?"

_(oh yeah there are no pictures of me how I wish there were pictures of me that way people would know me)_

The princess raised an eyebrow. "My name is Levana."

"Levana..." Akiho's fan whirred as she looked up the name, "Princess Levana?"

"Yeah, that's me."

Akiho blinked. "Your Highness," she said, bowing suddenly, "I have never been introduced to Lunar royalty before. I do apologize if I have offended you in any way."

The princess jerked back, spooked. "Wait, wha—no!" she stammered.

"Princess?" The android spoke with concern flooding her voice.

"I mean, don't call me 'princess' or 'Your Highness'. Please, it's just Levana."

_(I don__'__t like princess princess is stupid if anything queen is the only good title)_

Akiho brought a hand to her gleaming chest. "I don't know if I should—I have been programmed to use formal titles when addressing royalty."

"Yeah, well, I've changed your programming, so you don't have to do that anymore." Levana smiled. "You're your own person now."

"Really?"

_(I wish I could be too)_

"Yeah," Levana said, hunching her shoulders. "I mean, we're friends, right?"

"Friends..." Akiho's fan whirred, "That sounds nice. I've never had a friend before."

"Me neither." Levana's grin faded and she looked down at her feet, suddenly embarrassed. There was an awkward silence between the two before Akiho spoke again.

"So, how did you fix me, anyway?" Akiho inquired.

Levana gestured to a pile of wrenches and screwdrivers in the corner, her cheeks burning. It almost felt like theft and that thought terrified her, but it wasn't theft. She wasn't going to keep the tools. She would return them to the maintenance ward. Eventually.

_(better do it quick you don__'__t want a slap those hurt)_

"You built me by _yourself?_ I mean, not that there's anything weird about that, but you're a _princess_. Last I heard, princesses wear tiaras and have tea parties. They don't really play with machines or fix androids."

"Well, I don't think most princesses are part machine, either."

Akiho cocked her head. "What do you mean?"

Levana's cheeks flushed even more as she slowly took off her glove, finger by finger. Reluctantly, she showed the android her metal arm, holding it out carefully as if it were a dangerous weapon.

Akiho's sensor flashed. "Oh! Your arm is made of metal!"

"Yeah, I _know._" Tears started pooling in Levana's eyes, her breath hiccuping.

"Oh no, please don't cry! Nothing makes an android feel more useless than when a human is crying."

_(boohoo crybaby Levana crybaby Levana)_

"But I'm not human, Akiho, I'm _cyborg_," Levana sneered, looking at her metal limb with disgust.

"You're still human in your heart. This," she said, touching Levana's metal arm with her prong, "is just a sort of, um…" Akiho tapped her head a few times, "Programming glitch…yeah! A glitch!"

Levana sniffed and wiped her eyes, staring down at Akiho's single sensor. "A glitch?"

"Since we're friends, can I tell you a secret?" Akiho whispered, moving closer to her ear. Levana nodded in response. "I have a glitch, too. Sometimes I forget that I'm not human. I don't think that happens to most androids."

_(no never you__'__re really weird just like me)_

Levana shrunk back, wiping away her tears. "Right. A glitch..." She feigned a nonchalant smile, hoping the android couldn't detect the grimace that came with it. A glitch, one that Levana had bestowed upon her. One that made Akiho happy. "Maybe that's all it is."

* * *

"Why are we looking at this again?"

"Because, we just _have_ to admire the princes! They're all so _dreamy..._"

Levana and Akiho were lying side by side, doing Akiho's hobby of choice—searching u handsome princes on the net. They had landed upon the princes of the Eastern Commonwealth, whom Akiho said, from her brief time on earth, that every girl on the planet fawned over.

_(oh they__'__re so cute how I wish I could meet them)_

The screen showed three boys, their ages varying, all looking regal. The oldest one, a boy of about seventeen, was tall and muscular, with wavy black hair and copper skin. The second, about twelve or thirteen years old, was lanky and of average height—wearing a tailored suit that seemed unfitting with his shaggy black hair. The third, a boy who seemed to be about Levana's age, was about as tall as she was and looked a lot like the second prince, with the same hair and eyes. They were all waving at someone—Levana assumed that the photo had been taken at a press event.

"Princes Tsukune, Saito and Rikan of the Eastern Commonwealth," Levana read aloud.

"Which one is your favourite?"

_They're all the same, Akiho. Just pictures on the net. Not real. Not within reach._

"Prince Saito, I guess."

"I agree. He is, like, _perfect_."

He _was_ quite cute, but Levana would never say that out loud. She would keep her little celebrity crush to herself.

_(I wonder if you__'__re nice if you__'__d like me if you__'__d kiss me if you__'__d love me)_

"Anyway, get up! We have to get ready for the ball!"

Levana raised an eyebrow. "What ball?"

Akiho stared back at her as if she had just sprouted a metal tail. "The ball for the peace festival! It's this huge event that the Eastern Commonwealth has every year—the festival is down in the New Beijing city center and then in the evening they have the ball up at the palace. I've never gone for real, but I've heard that it is a party to _die _for." She sighed and spun out around the room.

"Do we have to dress up for the ball?"

"Why, _of course_! What a ridiculous question, Levana. Quick, to your closet!"

"Wait!" she cried, but Akiho just grabbed her hand and raced to the princess' wardrobe, opening up the sleek doors.

"Oh...look at all these gowns! I'm so glad that I have a princess as a friend!"

Levana blew a strand of hair out her face and crossed her arms over her chest, watching with a smile as Akiho went through her closet, _oooing_ and _ahhhing_ at every garment she saw. After a few minutes, Akiho came back her friend; she held up three dresses, gazing at each one.

"Levana, I can't decide! Should I wear this red kimono, or this green sundress, or this purple ballgown?" She threw her head back in exasperation. "Gah! So many decisions!"

Levana scoffed and raised a hand to her forehead, sighing dramatically. "Oh, the agony!"

"Boo you. Anyway, I think I'm going to wear the purple gown this time." Akiho held out the heavy dress in front of her. "Would you please help me?"

"Sure," the princess replied.

Levana helped the android into the ballgown, taking care not to snag any stitches or the lining on Akiho's joints. Once she was done, Akiho squealed with glee, twirling around. Levana smiled uncertainly—although the silk and tulle gown was perhaps the finest thing she'd ever owned, Akiho looked ridiculous in it. The hem of the gown dragged a foot on the floor, the sleeves dangled almost to the skirt. It almost looked like the gown was trying to eat the squat android.

Akiho twirled, barely tripping on the dragging hem. "How do I look?"

"You're the fairest in all the land," Levana sighed, as if she were swooning.

"Why, thank you! I'm sure that Prince Saito will agree."

Levana snorted. "Are you really_ that_ obsessed with him?"

Akiho let out an undignified huff. "Don't pretend like you're not as well," she said, bunching the fabric in one of her prongs. "Anyhow, our hover is here. We'd better get going or we'll be late for the ball, where _I_ am going to dance with His Imperial Highness, and you can dance with whoever you would like to. Maybe his little brother. He's cute too, you know."

_"_I don't really like dancing," Levana said, fiddling with her ponytail. "I think I'll just stay back and enjoy the hors-d'oeuvres."

"Nonsense! We're not going to this imaginary party just so you can sulk by the door, like you do in real life. We're playing pretend. You can actually be _graceful_ here!"

_(ow mommy I think I bruised my forehead again I hate dancing)_

Levana scowled. "Gee, thanks," she grumbled.

Akiho took her hand. "You know I mean well."

The princess looked up to the ceiling in abandon.

"Why are you always looking at the ceiling, Levana? There's nothing up there."

"Who knows? Maybe the sky will fall down and squish me," Levana said, rocking back on her heels. "I won't be able to dance, then."

Akiho blinked, the android equivalent of rolling her eyes."Oh, come on! Let's get you dressed! You'll be the most beautiful princess at the whole ball; you'll even make Channary look like an old hag in comparison," she chirped.

After a bit of grumbling and complaining, Levana finally let out a smile. She was so grateful for her android, for her friend. She was indebted to Akiho, who would never even know. She gave her company, a voice to listen to besides her own.

Life was so much better with friends.


	7. Chapter 6

_May 18, 108 T.E._

_Big gala at the Artemisia Palace_

_In honour of Crown Princess Channary's 24th birthday_

_and coming of age to inherit the lunar crown..._

* * *

"Hey, Levana? Could we _please _play on your net-pod? I'm so _bored_!" Akiho whined.

Levana just rolled her eyes. "No, Akiho. I'm busy as it is."

Akiho's game of choice on the net-pod was PrincessBall, in which they attended lavish parties and dressed up in taffeta ball gowns and diamond tiaras. Levana had even saved their custom-designed prince to her game profile so they could play with him again and again. He was tall, dark, handsome and wore a formal uniform of black dress pants and a red jacket adorned with a gold brocade belt and a crimson-and-gold sash. He never failed to gift them with boxes of chocolate—it was for this reason that they called him "Prince Chocolate". Although Levana didn't really enjoy the game all that much, she made an effort for her party-loving android, who was never allowed to attend the balls in Artemisia.

_(so much dancing such excess such prissy prissy people they all laugh at me behind my back)_

"Akiho, my wrench, please?" Levana held out her hand. Akiho huffed and dumped the heavy metal tool in the princess' hand.

Levana's knuckles ached from forcing the screwdriver into the joint as she struggled to loosen the screw one gritting twist after another. By the time it was extracted far enough for her to wrench it free with her real, human hand, the hairline threads had been stripped clean.

Tossing the screwdriver onto her desk, Levana gripped the metal fingers and yanked the hand from her wrist. A spark singed her fingertips and she jerked back, leaving the hand to dangle from a tangle of red and yellow wires. She slumped back with a relieved moan. She swore that the old, beat up piece of metal was getting heavier by the day. She looked over to the clean box, holding its replacement. It had arrived earlier that morning, all the way from the Earthen country called America. How excited she was when Akiho had handed her the neat package, so artfully disguised so that no one would suspect its origin.

_(a new hand I love it it__'__s amazing thank you Akiho you__'__re the best)_

Sighing, she bent over to the toolbox hidden beneath her desk. After digging through the jumbled mess of screwdrivers and wrenches, she emerged with the fuse puller that had been long buried at the bottom. One by one, she disconnected the wires that still linked her hand and wrist, each spurting a tiny spark.

"So, you excited for tonight?" Akiho asked gleefully over Levana's shoulder. The princess stopped pulling, looking perplexed.

Levana quirked a slender eyebrow. "What should I be excited for?"

"Duh! Channary's birthday bash! All the Earthen dignitaries will be there, including those super hot princes from the Eastern Commonwater..."

"Eastern _Commonwealth_, and there's only one prince, Akiho," Levana replied with a giggle.

"Whatever! But seriously, though. Can you believe it? The super hot emperor and prince of the Eastern Commonwealth are coming _here_. To Luna. To Artemisia. Aren't you just _ecstatic?_"

"No, not really."

Akiho gasped. "_What_? How could you say that?"

"This party will be no different than any other that I've been to. Trust me. It's just another occasion for Channary to rub her 'superiority' in my face. Besides, she'll probably have every man in the room at her feet within five minutes," Levana said, sighing.

_(my hair is a mess why can__'__t it be more like Channary__'__s she__'__s so perfect everyone loves her)_

"Aw, cheer up! You're way better than she is! Who knows? Maybe the Earthen are different. Maybe they aren't into stuck-up tyrants. Either way, I'm sure that you'll have a ton of fun," Akiho said with unbelievable optimism.

"Whatever you say…" Levana sighed. "So, when are these 'wonderful' Earthen arriving?" She rolled her eyes.

"In about forty-five minutes," Akiho chirped.

Levana's eyes bugged. She only had _forty-five minutes_ to finish her repairs and to make herself look presentable? How could not have noticed the time? She mentally cursed herself.

The princess quickly grabbed the pristine metal hand out of the box, knocking over several tools and books in the process. It was the most advanced and lifelike model ever made, the metal fingers slim and sleek, like her real ones. It had set her back nearly two-hundred thousand univs, which had taken three years and a lot of begging to her parents to save up. Levana gently propped her wrist on the desk and began connecting the color-coordinated wires.

"Fits like a glove, doesn't it?" Akiho said, holding a handful of screws while Levana twisted them into the predrilled holes.

"That was a really bad pun," Levana chuckled.

Akiho huffed. "Well I'm sorry, _Your Highness_," she grumbled.

Levana smiled. "You're getting really good at your sarcasm."

She tightened the last screw and stretched out her arm, rolling her wrist forward, back, wiggling her fingers. It was a little stiff, and her nerve sensors would need a few days to keep up with the updated wiring, but at least she wouldn't have an arm that seemed to weigh a ton. She threw her screwdriver onto her desk and rushed to her wardrobe, nearly slamming into the wall in her haste. The doors burst open, and she quickly pulled out the gown that she had chosen the night before.

_(pretty which should I choose oh I don__'__t want it tight or revealing it__'__ll be embarrassing)_

It was a soft, sky blue number with a crossover neckline and dotted rosemaling at the hem. A dark blue ribbon was cinched at the waist with a glittery, crescent-moon shaped brooch. She raced to her bathroom, flinging off the dirty slip dress she was wearing. Levana slipped into the silk gown, the fabric feeling like poison ivy on her skin. She grimaced. How she hated fancy dresses. She hated fancy parties, fancy shoes, fancy _everything_.

She may have been a princess, but she was definitely not a fan of corsets.

Grabbing a pair of bejewelled flats, she hobbled out of the bathroom, attempting to stuff her small feet into the pinchy footwear. She grabbed her hairbrush off her vanity before going back in to clean her grease-spotted face. The war against the rat's nest on her head was interrupted by Akiho's shrill yelling.

"Hey! You can't just barge—"

"Oh, do shut up!" a feminine voice barked.

_(how I hate that voice it__'__s so annoying what does she want now)_

Levana heard a crash and some swearing. "Ugh, how I _hate_ androids!" the voice said.

The princess was just finishing up, tying her long auburn hair in a simple but elegant ponytail.

"Levana? Are you in here?" the voice barked again, making Levana grit her teeth. That voice belonged to the _last _person in the world that she wanted to see. She swallowed her contempt and put on a well practiced smile before reentering her bedroom.

Standing next to the desk was her older sister, looking as stunning as ever. She wore an exquisite sleeveless gown, made from fabric the colour of gold. The sweetheart neckline put her full chest on display, her throat draped with a necklace of pearls and diamonds. The neckline and hem of the gown were embroidered with traditional rosemaling and the exposed underskirt glittered like the stars in an endless sky. Her straight brown hair cascaded down to her hips and a platinum crown incrusted with lunar diamonds sat on her bangs.

"Well, if it isn't my big sister, descending from on high to mingle with the commoners!" Levana said in a saccharine voice, her hips swaying as she brushed by.

Channary glared briefly, then stepped back and did a half spin, letting the shimmering skirt billow around her ankles. "What do you think, Levana? Won't Emperor Saito absolutely _adore_ me in this?"

Levana barely restrained the urge to slime one of her dirty cleaning rags over the gown. Instead, she tossed her grease-stained slip dress on her bed.

"Is there something you needed?" Levana asked, internally rolling her eyes.

"Yes, actually. I wanted to ask your opinion." Channary held out her hands. On her wrists were mismatched bracelets, one laden with diamonds, the other made of pure gold that seemed to slither up her forearm.

Levana put a finger to her lips, pretending to think. "The gold makes your wrist look fat," she retorted.

Channary scoffed. "The metal plating makes _your_ wrist look fat. You're just jealous of my lovely hands. It's a shame that you'll never know the pleasure," she sighed in mock sympathy.

"I'm glad you found at least _one_ body part that's lovely," Levana said.

Channary, instead of reacting, just tossed her golden hair, a smug grin on her face. She knew that Levana's taunting had no power, and Levana was irritated when the low insult brought her no satisfaction.

"I've been rehearsing my conversation with every single royal that will be at my party. Of course, I intend to tell them everything." She swayed so that her shimmering skirt caught the light.

"First, I'm going to tell them all about your ugly metal extremities and how much of an embarrassment you are, what a disgusting creature they turned you into. I'm also going to make sure that the emperor realizes how much more desirable _I_ am."

"What is it with your infatuation of the emperor? It's not like you've ever found any Earthen _appealing_, anyway," Levana spat.

"Politics, Levana. Maybe someday, if you ever manage to get your head out of the dirt, you might care to learn a thing or two about them."

The princess scowled, her nostrils flared. "Whatever, Channary. Are you done yet?" Levana's patience was wearing thin. Channary clucked her tongue.

"Insolence doesn't really suit you, sister dearest. Just make sure that you stay out of my way, or _I'll_ make sure that this night will end horribly for you," Channary said, her voice silky velvet.

With a final swish of her hips, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Levana gagged. How she hated her. Channary was just so _annoying. _She could hurt and torment her in any way she wished, and Levana couldn't do a thing about it. God help her if she even tried to lay a finger on her older sister, heir to the throne. She would often fantasize about programming Channary as easily as she could program her android. Oh, how the game would change then, if her sister was to follow her orders for once, rather than the other way around.

"Is she gone?" a soft voice whispered from behind the desk. Levana looked over to see Akiho huddled on the floor, her bulbous head craned sideways, her arms crooked and snapped.

"Yes, you can come out now. Come on, I'll fix you up," Levana said tenderly. Akiho was her only friend, and she hated to see Channary inflict damage upon her.

"Are you sure? Don't you have to go to the party?" Akiho waddled over.

"Don't worry, I have time to fix you first." Levana picked her up and placed her on her desk, grabbing a screwdriver.

_Snap! _

She twisted one of Akiho's arms back in place, cringing at the sound, trying to remind herself that Akiho was an android, and that androids couldn't feel pain. Not physical, at least.

"So, who are you going to dance with?"

Levana groaned. "Don't remind me."

"About what?"

She shuddered. "The _dancing_."

"What do you have against dancing?"

"It's a very dangerous pastime, at least for me," said, cringing as she remembered the _last _time she danced with someone. Long story short: it did not end well.

"Why, 'cause you're really clumsy?"

"I'm not clumsy! It's just that the floor hates me, the chairs and tables are bullies and the wall always gets in my way," Levana huffed with false indignation. She tightened the last screw and Akiho was as good as new.

"It seems that you're in de-ni-al!" Akiho said, snapping her prongs and swaying her—imaginary—hips.

Levana rolled her eyes, smiling. "Whatever."

"Oh, Levana, look at the time! You should probably get going, your entrance will be announced in..." Akiho's insides hummed, "about three minutes."

"WHAT?! No, no, I'm going to be late! Gah!" Levana grabbed her golden tiara off her vanity and placed on her head before racing out the door. "See you later, Akiho!"

"Wait! You're forgetting your gloves!" Akiho cried, gesturing to the cream coloured silk gloves that lay beside her. Levana turned around and grabbed them from the desk, thanking Akiho.

Akiho waved. "Have fun!"

_Ha, fun. As if I could have fun on this stupid piece of rock I call home._


	8. Chapter 7

"I still can't believe that you made me come here."

"Rikan, we've already gone over this. If we ever want to secure an alliance with Luna, we must be willing to act polite and civilized—that includes participating in important events. We were _invited_ to this gala, and wether you like it or not, if we succeed in forging an alliance, these events will only increase."

Emperor Saito and Prince Rikan were walking down the lavish hallways of the Artemisia palace, on their way to the grand ballroom. They had arrived on Luna earlier that morning, spending the whole afternoon touring and admiring the palace, an architectural masterpiece.

"Don't you remember what father always told us? Keep an open mind. They're human too, you know."

Rikan rolled his eyes. "No they're not. They're _Lunars_."

Saito's frown deepened. "This night would be a lot more pleasant if you would just drop your unfair prejudices."

"You try saying that when they start controlling you like puppet masters."

"There's no way that _all _of them are like that."

"_Yes way_. Just go ahead and you'll see. If you don't watch your back, brother, you'll probably end up dying here—killed by one of them. Maybe even the royal family."

Saito grit his teeth. "I'll keep that in mind."

They followed their guards the rest of way—neither of them speaking to each other again.

Once they reached the grand regolith doors of the ballroom, some bystanding guards opened the doors for them, and they both let out gasps of bewilderment at the sight of the room.

The ballroom was like a human recreation of paradise.

For the richest and most powerful people in the world to gather for a party was no small occasion, and neither was their venue. The grand ballroom at the Artemisia palace was designed in the style of the Hall of Mirrors at the Palace of Versailles in ancient France, modernized with accents reflecting Luna's own distinctive culture.

Instead of mirrors, the walls of the ballroom were covered in the same non-reflective glass that made up the dome that housed the capital. Like its predecessor, the Artemisia Palace ballroom had seventeen grand arched windows separated by marble pilasters decorated in gilded sculptures. Seventeen large crystal chandeliers and twenty-six smaller ones made of solid silver hung from the ceiling; from these chandeliers, a thousand candles lit the room.

Saito shuddered a bit. It seemed like paradise, but it felt more like a prison. He wondered why.

_(so pretty so gorgeous)_

Beneath the over-the-top decorations and the overall glint of the room, Saito was wondering what secrets the palace _really _held.

_What are you Lunars hiding? _

* * *

Guards dressed in platinum-coloured uniforms lined the corridor, directing guests away from the elevator dock and toward the ballroom in the south wing, as if the clinking glasses and orchestral music weren't clear enough. Emerging from the hallway, Levana raced down a grand staircase that cascaded into the ballroom. A row of guards and servants flanked the stairs, their faces as unreadable as those in the hall. They all eyed her as if she were one of her father's experiments that had somehow escaped from the lab. She didn't care, though. She was late and in a hurry.

_Be graceful. Be graceful. Be graceful._

At last, she reached the door that led to behind the ballroom's awning, opening it as soon as she heard the courtier beginning the announcements. Good.

She wasn't too late.

She wouldn't make _that_ much of a fool out of herself. She smiled. That night might not be so bad after all.

Maybe for once, luck was on _her_ side.

* * *

Channary sighed as she peered out form behind the velvet curtain to the awning facing the front of the ballroom. How she loved her birthday galas—all eyes on her, every one of her citizens paying her upmost respect and admiration. She was particularly pleased with that year's coming of the Earthen dignitaries, a chance to forge alliances with the Earthen union. She had her sights set on Emperor Saito, a fine young man with power over the largest and most influential of the Earthen kingdoms. He was a perfect match; young, inexperienced and naïve. Or so she thought.

_(little emperor just wait until you meet me I__'__ll make you fall to your knees)_

The last of the guests were just arriving, and soon the royal family would be announced, the gala starting for real. She frowned a bit when she looked around, and saw her parents and a few guards, but no Levana.

_Late, as usual. _

What _else_ could she expect from her failure of a sister, that sorry excuse for royalty?

"Channary?"

Channary turned her head to the sound of her mother's voice.

"It's time, dear."

She flashed her an angelic smile. "Of course, mother."

_Ugh, Levana. Seriously. Hurry up._

Just outside the awning, a blare of trumpets rang overhead as the courtier walked out in pomp and splendour. "If I may have your attention," he announced, his voice deep and loud.

At once, most of the discussion clammed up. Everyone faced the front of the ballroom, eager. The courtier cleared his throat, and then gestured.

"Their Lunar Majesties, King Marrok and Queen Jannali Blackburn!"

The king and the queen walked out onto the awning, their regal gaits making the rest of the crowd fall silent.

"Her most honoured Lunar Highness, Princess Channary Blackburn!"

A few bewildered gasps, mostly from Earthen, emerged from the crowd as Channary walked out in the twinkling light. She truly did look like a divine goddess.

"Her Lunar Highness, Princess Levana Blackburn!"

A few crashes and muttered curses could be heard from behind the awning. Channary hid her embarrassment behind her glamour, although inside, she was seething. Leave it to Levana to completely embarrass you at a formal event with her antics, she thought to herself.

A murmur rippled through the crowd as Levana emerged—a few pieces of broken porcelain trailing behind her—and made her way to her spot next to Channary, trying not to fall over.

_Again_.

Women whispered behind their hands. Men craned their necks to catch the hushed gossip. Levana's cheeks burned. Although she hated to do it, she reached out to the minds of the crowd and willed them to look away. Look away. _Look away. _They looked away, the murmurs ceasing instantly. Levana smiled timidly, as if she hadn't just brainwashed thousands of people.

Never in her life had she been so glad she could hide her blush.

"Let the festivities begin!" King Marrok's booming voice echoed through the immense ballroom, earning a round of applause from the crowd.

The orchestra picked up where they left off, and suitor after suitor began lining up for the customary first dance with the lady of honour—Princess Channary.

Levana let out a sigh. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Honestly, Saito didn't really know what to expect of the royal certainly knew that he would've never expected the second princess to be such a captivating, intriguing beauty.

_Princess Levana._

Saito looked in awe at her, her timid face and demeanour small and shy in contrast to her family's regal and pompous stances. Her hair was pinned up in a simple ponytail, not very intricate at all, and yet, she still managed to look elegant and alluring. Her golden tiara inlaid with three blue opals seemed plain next to her sister's more intricate crown of platinum and diamonds. She had a sweetheart face, with an ocean of freckles standing out against her skin. Her high cheekbones held a tinge of pink, and her sweet lips were curled into a nonchalant smile.

He shook his head. Was it a glamour?

It could've been, but she just looked so _natural, _so innocent. Where her parents and sister seemed too overly beautiful, too unnatural, she had just the right amount of beauty to render him speechless. She reminded him of a young maiden straight out of a fairytale.

_(sweet maiden beautiful princess of the moon shunned and hated and feared but why)_

His fascination was shallow, he knew, but he couldn't look away. The urge to talk to her came suddenly and unbidden. Maybe he could allow himself _one_ dance…

Staring at her like that, he probably looked like an idiot. Rikan confirmed that suspicion by discreetly elbowing him in the ribs. "Don't get _any _ideas, Saito," he muttered under his breath. The emperor sighed, his jaw clenching ever so slightly.

His gaze snapped away from the girl as he heard approaching footsteps. He looked up to see none other than Princess Channary walking up to him, a mob of at least thirty princes, dukes and dignitaries trailing behind her, all begging for the first dance. She stopped, her glittering skirt settling around her feet. The princess gave him a glowing smile, flashing her pearl-white teeth. He could feel Rikan bristling next to him.

She bowed. "Your Majesty," she cooed, "It is my greatest pleasure to welcome you to my home and planet. I thank you so very much for coming." Her voice made the hair prickle on the back of his neck.

He bowed in return. "It is my greatest honour to be thus welcomed, and thank you for inviting us. May I also wish you a very happy birthday."

"Why, thank you! These galas are always the best birthday gift that I receive."

"It is easy to see why. The ballroom and reception are splendid. Don't you agree, Rikan?"

No answer.

Saito cleared his throat. "Rikan?"

"Absolutely _marvellous,_" the prince grumbled.

Channary smiled at him with only the slightest trace of contempt before turning her gaze back to the emperor.

"Although it is _my_ birthday, dear emperor, I feel that I should give _you_ the honour of having your first dance with me."

His jaw dropped at the sudden bold proposal, and Rikan barely bit back howling laughter.

"I do beg your pardon?"

Channary batted her eyelashes. "Come on now, you should be _honoured _that I would request a dance from you, out of all these other men just _dying _to be with me!"

He turned to look at Rikan, who had a smug grin on his face. Saito's stomach flipped, the momentary awe turning to revulsion. He was offset by Channary's boldness, and frankly, he was tempted to refuse the divine princess' offer. However, he knew that he had to make an effort if he ever wanted to form a peaceable alliance with Luna—not to mention keeping Rikan from proving him wrong—so he grit his teeth and took her hand, leading her into a waltz.

She followed his movements exactly, copying them with such grace that it made him look like a clumsy duck in comparison—nearly missing a step every time. He looked over at her perfect face, her pink lips curled into a serene smile, her lashes dipped coquettishly. She was like an _angel._

Tears pricked the back of eyes, and he felt the urge, no, the _need_, to kiss her.

_Wait, what?_

Channary's lips curved some more and her brown eyes flashed in the ballroom light. Saito frowned. The desire dissipated instantly, leaving him confused, irritated and angry. He grit his teeth. So _that _was the lunar glamour. He knew that she was aware of the effect she'd had on him as he struggled to soothe his ragged breathing, and though he wanted to detect cold haughtiness in her eyes, he saw nothing. Nothing at all.

As they continued to waltz across the ballroom floor, Saito tried to keep as much distance between himself and Channary as he possibly could, without the princess suspecting anything.

He felt like he was suffocating.

_Since when is a dance supposed to feel like a death trap?_


	9. Chapter 8

Levana couldn't stop thinking about how much she hated those galas.

For one, they were so terribly _boring_. Not that much attention was ever directed towards Levana, who was always overshadowed by the radiant Channary. Her sister was always flanked by hundreds of—attractive, on top of that—males, whom were all too blind to ever see past her pretty face.

It was something that Levana was only the _tiniest_ bit jealous over.

Even then, as she watched Channary waltz with the first lucky man, she felt the tiniest pang of envy. The crowd parted for her and her partner, the most handsome man in the room; the emperor of the Eastern Commonwealth. Channary held a poised smile, but the emperor's expression was as unfeeling as stone as they waltzed across the marble floor.

Levana peered over at her parents, who gazed at the dancing royals with pride. She internally scoffed. They were so _proud _of their little girl, luring another unsuspecting man to his death, like the siren that she was.

Levana's internal grumbling went on, getting louder and louder with each second that passed. She stood, frozen—her posture poised, her spine as straight as an arrow—and it irritated her. She was tired of standing that way. The three minute waltz seemed to last three hours, she was that uncomfortable.

Much to her relief, the music finally ceased and the crowd began to applaud. Her gaze turned to the dance floor and she saw the emperor and her sister parting ways—he with a stiff bow and she with the grace of a swan. As the orchestra started again, the entire ballroom joined in the dancing. Levana, however, felt no urge to dance or mingle with the crowd. She just wanted to get the night over with. To her immense surprise, she would've even played PrincessBall with Akiho if it meant getting out of there.

Sighing, she made her way to the table stocked with every single type of desert imaginable, ranging from chocolate soufflés to ice cream tarts to mango mousse. The food, in Levana's opinion, was the only thing worth coming to the gala for. She picked up a piece of caramel stuffed chocolate and smiled. She was a romantic, and she had fallen in love with all things chocolate. She popped it in her mouth and chewed it in an unladylike fashion, swallowing as she licked her lips. There was nothing better than lunar chocolate, all rich and creamy.

The euphoria made her stand there, like a fool, taking in the scent of sugar and fruit. After a moment, though, she was snapped out of her desert-induced haze by a curt tap on her shoulder.

"Your Highness?"

She frowned, annoyed. Just what she wanted—another guard, coming to reprimand her for being in the way of the other guests' desire for sweets.

As soon as she turned around, though, her frown turned into a timid smile. She was met with soft copper-brown eyes that shone with the ballroom light. Standing before her was probably the beautiful human being she had ever seen. He was tall and slender, but still muscular. He had raven black hair that hung past his ears and lips that every girl, Lunar and Earthen, had admired a thousand times, whether from netscreens or in real life. He wore a red and gold uniform embroidered with lotus flowers and motifs of dragons. He was a real live Prince Chocolate. _Delicious_.

For a moment, Levana just stood there, speechless, until she realized that the man was expecting an answer.

"Yes?" she said softly. She could feel the blush creeping across her cheeks. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

The man held out a hand. "I'm sorry for interrupting, but I was wondering if I could have this next dance?"

"Of cour—wait, dance?!"

"Well, yeah. It's a ball, that's kind of what you do here," he replied sarcastically. Levana said nothing. She was a bit appalled at the man's sarcasm, considering she didn't even know his name, although he did look familiar.

The man noticed Levana's expression, and his gaze immediately softened, apologetic. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude. I just...had to endure a very unpleasant waltz," he said bitterly.

"With whom?"

"Princess Channary," he muttered.

The whole thing clicked in Levana's mind. Oh. _Oh. _Her eyes widened, and she dipped into the most graceful curtsey she could muster, which probably wasn't much."Y-your Majesty..." she stammered.

She expected a scolding or a sneer from the emperor, but instead, he started laughing. Levana righted herself immediately, frowning. She crossed her arms over her chest. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, it's just that I…sort of expected a different reaction." He chuckled. "You're really odd, you know."

She frowned.

The man grinned playfully. "I meant that in the best possible way."

Levana lowered her head, her cheeks flushed. "I apologize, Your Majesty. My reaction was unwarranted."

His gaze softened, and he lifted her chin up with his fingers. "You can call me Saito."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Please, no more 'Your Majesty.' I get enough of that from…everyone else. You should just call me Saito."

"No. That wouldn't be—"

"Don't make me turn it into a royal command," he grinned. Levana smiled back, the awkwardness dissipating.

"If I call you Saito, then you can call me Levana, then," she said playfully. She blushed internally. Since when was she such a flirt?

"Sounds like a plan." Saito reached forward and took her hand, and before she realized what was happening, he had plucked her away from the desert table and taken her into his arms.

They were dancing.

Heart hammering, Levana pried her gaze away from him and looked over his shoulder. Channary had already found herself a new partner and was oblivious to her or the emperor. Saito grinned, coaxing her back to arm's length, but he didn't tease her. He held up her right hand, and Levana gulped, suddenly self-conscious. It took her a moment to remember that she was wearing her gloves, that no one could see her metal arm. Calming down somewhat, she blushed slightly, her chest pressing against his.

"So. That's your sister," he said, glancing over to the crown princess.

Levana's lips pressed into a thin line. "Yes, unfortunately."

"She seems like a real treasure." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Levana scoffed, and she started to ease. She pictured the ever-graceful Channary in her ball gown and heels, and wished her body into conformity. At least her feet seemed to be memorizing the pattern of the dance steps, making each movement slightly more fluid than the last, until she almost felt as if she knew what she were doing. Of course, the tender pressure of Saito's hand on her waist didn't hurt.

"I pity you, since you were the one who had to dance with her," Levana said.

"Better me than Rikan, my brother. He has a very strong dislike for Lunars—no offense."

She smiled back. "None taken."

"It took _hours _just to get him on the ship to get here. I couldn't bear to imagine how he would react if he had to dance with her, of all people."

Levana's breath hitched as he spun her around, the skirt of her gown swishing around her legs. "He would probably have his tongue cut out within five minutes," she said, once she was back against him.

Saito paled, his eyes widening.

She regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth. "I mean, if he says something bad—"

"I know," the emperor said softly. He sighed. "I really want him to remain vigilant tonight. Knowing him, I just hope that he watches what he says and does."

Levana gave him a sweet smile, her heart warming at the care and worry that he showed for his younger brother. "Don't worry. I'm sure he'll be okay."

Before they knew it, the music had ended and everyone bowed, going off in search of new partners. Levana sighed, letting go of Saito's shoulders, expecting him to leave her alone once again. But instead, he took her hand in his and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckle, making her blush.

"Levana, I've really enjoyed this last dance with you. Would I be too bold to ask for another?"

Levana smiled timidly. "Of course not."

He grinned, placing one hand on her waist and holding one of her hands in the other, as he led her into another dance.

The next dance ended up being the next three dances. The two of them were quite rapid, and they both were rather flushed afterward. Plus, the ballroom was getting a tad on the warm side, so Levana decided to go for a stroll in the palace garden, and offered Saito the chance to escort her. He readily accepted. Soon, they were leaving the hustle and bustle of the ballroom behind, and enjoying the warm summer night, listening to the sounds of animals coming from the menagerie and admiring the smell of the flowers hanging from the arbors as they walked by.

While they walked, they began to get to talking, asking each other about themselves and how their lives were like.

When it was his turn to speak, Levana was fascinated by his stories of Earth, of the Eastern Commonwealth. He told witty anecdotes about his visits around the country, of all the traders that came by, and how they actually received shipments from tropical isles every so often with things most Lunars had never even heard of before. Over the course of talking, the two made their way back inside and, before she knew it, went to one of the glass balconies that overlooked Artemisia, to sit under the stars and continue the conversation, just as it turned to his own family.

"Ah...Rikan. He always was a handful."

Levana feigned ignorance. "Oh, really? I never would have guessed."

They both chuckled. "Yeah. One day, he decided to give me a haircut in my sleep. I couldn't take any pictures for a month, he had butchered my hair so much. I was forced to wear a hat the whole time," Saito said.

The princess couldn't help but let out a louder laugh, cupping her mouth a bit as she did so. "Oh, that's terrible!" she said, in spite of that. "I can't believe he'd be that mean!"

"It's okay, though. It's just who he is. Tsukune and I, despite being further in age, were the closest, before he, well, died." Levana gave him a sympathetic look, which he gave a smile in return, "I still love Rikan dearly. I don't know what I'd do without him."

"I wish that _I _had a sibling who felt that way."

Saito raised an eyebrow. "And Channary doesn't?"

"Not at all. She's hardly a sister in any sense of the word."

His curiosity piqued. "Why do you say that?"

"I..." Levana sighed, "don't really want to talk about it."

His face fell. "Well...you don't have to, if you don't want to."

She looked back up at him, her smile having melted into a frown. "Let's just say that most of her interactions with me involved either glamouring me, insulting me or shutting me out."

Saito's gaze softened. "I could never shut you out," he told her. "You're the most energetic and exciting young woman I have ever met. I don't see how anyone could turn you away."

Levana, on hearing that, couldn't help but smile again. It felt so nice to just get _complimented_ for once. All of that evening felt so lovely. As nice as the party was, the nicest part by far was Saito. She realized she wouldn't have minded if he had been the only person who had shown up, so long as it meant spending that time there.

"Hey...you want to know something crazy?"

Saito chuckled a bit. "Crazy? I'm used to it. Go on."

"Living here for the past nineteen years, it's felt almost like my whole life, everyone has only been isolating themselves from me or shutting doors in my face. Like they've been going out of their way to ignore me, but then, I met you tonight, and you're the first person in ages who feels like you actually want to get to know me. Like you actually enjoy being around me." She paused a moment, then sighed and shook her head. "I'm sorry—maybe I'm being a bit melodramatic but...if you lived like I have for so long..."

"No, no, it's alright!" he immediately corrected. "It's actually really funny that you say that."

Levana looked up a bit. "It is? Like 'ha, ha' funny or..."

"I mean...I kind of feel the same way. I've been to a lot of places on Earth, too. Trying to find somewhere that, I don't know, felt _right_. Somewhere I felt I belonged, and someone who I felt I belonged with. And then, well, I met you tonight. And it almost feels as if something is going right for a change."

Levana blinked and stared back momentarily at that, honestly surprised.

On seeing her reaction, the emperor's face blanched a bit. "I'm sorry, did I come on too strong? I shouldn't have said that out loud..." He began to turn his head away slightly. "I'm-"

Before he could say another word, however, Levana's hand went out and took his. Immediately, he looked back up to her, and saw her surprise had vanished and was replaced with growing excitement. She began to pull him up.

"Come on."

He blinked. "Where are we going?"

She smiled. "To do something that I haven't done for most of my life—have some fun."


	10. Chapter 9

And so, the night only expanded from there. Levana knew that she only had so long with the handsome young emperor, and she wanted to make it last, so even once he went back to his own planet, she would still have memories to hold dear.

The two of them first went to the highest tower of the palace, and walked about the parapet under the stars, just in time to catch the fireworks for the celebration. Then, she got a bit sillier, and talked Saito into taking off his shoes with her and sliding along the marble floors on the upper gallery, when none of the guards or watchmen were looking. Not only did he go along with it, he actually laughed and enjoyed it the whole time. Letting down the emperor façade for that short time was a great relief, to say the least.

She gave him a tour of the treasury and menagerie, showing him her newest, most darling pet ever—an exquisite arctic wolf named Lala. She was young—only six months old—and fairly small, still a cub. Levana was so happy when she had received her for her nineteenth birthday, squealing so much that she nearly damaged poor Lala's ears. Saito laughed at that story.

They had looked through the art gallery, filled with priceless artifacts, ice sculptures kept at a constant temperature, unmarked paintings. Everything original.

If that wasn't enough, they had even went to the clock tower and did something Levana had always wanted to do since she was little—and thought she might do with Channary—goofily move along with the little dolls that came out every hour. Saito seemed to be rather good at going through the mechanical motions. Better than her, at any rate. She honestly wondered if he had practiced back in New Beijing.

Overall, it was a wonderful night filled with fun and conversation, warmth and light.

Because God knows that Levana needed some in her life. It was a wonderfully sweet evening— that was about to turn extremely sour.

And as the clock chimed midnight, a lone shadow snuck past the disabled security systems, the shining glint of his gun barely concealed by the dark cloak he was wearing.

* * *

It was getting late by that point. Twelve o'clock had just rolled around, and Levana knew that they had to have been out there for at least a couple of hours. Surely, _someone_ had to have noticed their absence.

She just hoped it wasn't her parents or worse—Channary.

She had to practically run back with Saito in order to return to the ballroom in time. Luckily, on arriving there, she was pleased to see things were still in full swing, although most of chocolate was gone. But whatever.

Just a minor detail.

They had snuck back in through the east entrance, the only one that remained unguarded. The hustling and festivities of the ballroom had not ceased, no one noticing the princess and the emperor's entrance. They laughed as they walked amongst the dancing nobles. They themselves joined in for another dance, Levana much more confident about her dancing abilities.

After the song ended, Saito excused himself to go and get a refreshment from the abundance of options served. Levana began to walk up to the awning, where her parents were most likely observing the gala. However, she froze in her tracks as she suddenly heard panicked screams and a mechanical sounding click. She broke out in a cold sweat as she slowly turned around.

She didn't understand what was happening, until she saw the glinting barrel of a gun.

It all happened so slowly, as if someone was taking time and stretching it out, making it last for what seemed like an eternity. Levana, acting on instinct, ducked and fell flat on her stomach, covering her head with her gloved hands, just as the first shot rang out. People were screaming and shoving, trying desperately to get away from the murderous gunman. She heard the guards' stomping feet as they raced towards the intruder—a shell—and knocked him out, sending his gun clattering across the floor.

Levana stayed on the ground for god knows how long before she finally found the energy to right herself, her head pounding from the sudden impact on the hard floor.

"MAMA! PAPA!" A shrill scream of pure anguish rose up from the crowd, drowning out all the shocked gasps and the cries of fear.

Levana's heart pounded, her blood running through her veins like molasses. She followed the flow of the crowd, towards the voice that continued to wail and scream. Gently, she pushed her way through the people, her stomach flip-flopping. The sight she came to made her want to hurl.

Both of her parents were lying on the marble floor, their limbs intertwined and in awkward positions. Their skin was a sickly greyish colour and their eyes were open, blank, unblinking. _Lifeless_. They had huge bullet wounds, blood pouring out and pooling all over the ballroom floor. Levana didn't even need to check their pulses.

They were dead. Her parents had been _murdered, _and oddly enough, she didn't feel sad, only shocked, if anything. She didn't feel like screaming or crying. She just felt hollow, indifferent—and it scared her.

_(where is the pain where is the grief do I have no heart why am I not sad I want to be sad like everyone else)_

Channary, on the other hand, was on her knees, cradling her dead father's head on her lap.

She was mumbling incoherent nonsense, the blood from his bullet wounds staining her pristine gown. Her brown eyes were open wide and she was so pale, her skin nearly translucent. Levana stepped up to her and attempted to put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Get away from me," Channary spat as she felt Levana's fingertips brush her shoulder.

Levana, despite her sister's radiating coldness, persisted. "Channary..."

"GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU _IDIOT_! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" Channary screamed, tears running down her face. Levana recoiled, taken aback.

It was the first time that she had ever seen her sister cry.

Shock and confusion quickly turned to anger. "How is it _my_ fault?!"

"That shot was meant for YOU! It was YOU who should have died, not them! You're worthless! No one would even CARE if you disappeared off the face of the moon!"

The confused tittering hushed, pushing the questions toward those in the back of the crowd who couldn't see what was happening but could no doubt feel the tension expanding around them. Everyone turned to the raging princess, who was too angry and mad on grief to notice their stares.

"That's NOT true! It was an accident, Channary!" Levana yelled back, a jolt of determination making her stand a little taller. She would not let Channary bring her down. Not then. Not there.

Channary stood up and wiped her eyes. Despite the tears running down her face, her makeup remained perfect, unsmudged. She laughed, half addressing the crowd, half addressing Levana.

_(no please look away nothing to see here nothing to see)_

"It _is _true, and you know it! You're nothing but a disgrace to our family name. As if anyone would want you! You can't even show your face in society without feeling like you don't belong. Let's face it, Levana, you'll never belong anywhere. You bring nothing but pain and misery to all. If you think you're worth anything, you're wrong! Look around you, how many people do you see that would stand up for you? None!" She came closer and ripped the gloves off Levana's hands, exposing her metal arm. Channary grimaced. "No one wants a filthy _cyborg_ amongst them."

A gasp rose from the crowd. Levana could hear murmurs of shock and disgust, although it didn't surprise her. _Everyone _hated cyborgs. _Everyone_. It was a fact, but she wasn't ready to accept it.

_(no I just want to be part of you don__'__t laugh at me please don__'__t laugh)_

Levana cradled her metal arm to her chest. "No...you're wrong..."

"Stars, Levana! You can't even see the truth when it's standing right in front of you! Well, here it is: it would be so much better for everyone if you would just DIE!" Channary roared.

A wave of appalled gasps rose up from the crowd.

_(die die you__'__d be better off dead no one loves you no one wants you DIE)_

Levana backed away. "W-what?"

It took all of Levana's strength to keep herself from bursting into tears. Every one of Channary's words was like a knife stabbing into her, over and over again. It hurt. It hurt so much. Channary turned away, taking slow, shaking breaths, trying in vain to regain her composure.

Channary turned back to look at her sister. "Even _death_ would be merciful," she sneered.

Levana turned around and raced behind the awning, not stopping until she slammed the ballroom door shut. The shocked and appalled faces of the crowd were all still looking at Channary, stunned by her outburst. She lifted her gaze up to them, seething. She felt their brainwaves, some strong, some weak, some tall, some deep. She twisted them all.

_You want to leave. You want to go away._

The crowd immediately began to disperse.

Channary sighed. "Sybil?"

The head thaumaturge came to Channary's side instantly. "Yes, Your Highness?"

"The party is over. Have everyone sent home—for the Earthen, to their quarters—and close the gates."

"Of course, Princess. May I also offer my deepest condolences," Sybil lowered her head in respect, "over the death of your parents, our beloved monarchs. They will be greatly missed."

Channary gave her a genuine smile. "Thank you, Sybil."

"I can also assure you that the assassin will be punished accordingly. Perhaps a few days of bioelectric torture, followed by a painful execution."

Channary's sweet smile twisted into a demonic grin. "Good."

Sybil nodded and walked away to join the other thaumaturges, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

_(you have to keep killin__' __em Channary dear they must all die they are a plague crush them under your shoe)_

Channary let one last tear run down her cheek before wiping it away, her soul crushed by grief. Her parents were the only people that she had ever cared about. So out of all the guests at the gala, why did _they_ have to be the ones to die?

* * *

_"...to shun the moon..."_

It should have been Levana.

She should have been the one to die.

_"...and wait instead..."_

To disappear.

Forever.

_"...for sister's sunny day..."_

* * *

After Channary's public outburst, the last thing Levana wanted was to be seen by another human being. She had raced to her all-too familiar bedroom, not even bothering to lock the door. She was sitting on the floor, her back against her bed, her knees tucked up to her chest. She had flung her tiara somewhere in the room, not even caring where it went.

Because to her, it was worthless. Just like herself.

_(they__'__re all laughing at you in there and Channary finds it funny they all find it funny)_

For so long she would just suck it up, and she hadn't had a crying jag for a while now. But then, she just spent a while bawling her eyes out, wallowing in a pool of hurt and hurt and even more hurt.

And self-loathing. And self-pity.

She had probably thrown herself the biggest pity party in the history of pity parties.

_(mommy daddy why do you hate me make them stop I hate it I hate you I hate them)_

"Princess?"

Levana jumped a bit. Her head swivelled to the voice and she saw—much to her embarrassment—Saito standing in the doorway, holding the door halfway open.

"May I come in?"

Levana wiped her tears away, knowing full well that she probably looked like a raccoon. "Be my guest," she whimpered.

He came in and seated himself on the floor next to her. She scooted a bit farther away from him, as if just being beside her would make him sick.

"I'm..." he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry about your parents."

Levana sniffed.

_(bang bang mommy and daddy I__'__m not sad you should__'__ve been wary of guns and shells)_

She let out a shaky sigh, trying not to cry in front of him. "T-thank you.""How did you even find me?" Levana asked after a moment.

"Well, for one, I asked the guards where your room was. I could also," he ran a hand through his hair, "hear you crying."

Levana flushed, looking at the ground, the walls, anywhere else but at him.

_(cry-baby Leva-na, cry-baby Leva-na)_

"Oh," she deadpanned.

Saito paled, running a finger down her cheek. "What is that?"

Levana immediately tensed. "What?"

"Is that..." his eyes widened, "a _scar_?"

Levana blanched. She forgot that she had taken down her glamour, making her scars visible for everyone to see. The one that Saito saw was the biggest and most gruesome of all of them, that ran from above her ear and ran down her neck, all the way to her collarbone.

_(stay still little sister this won__'__t hurt a bit you__'__ll be so much prettier afterwards)_

She lowered her head, feeling tears of shame pool in her eyes. "Don't look at it."

"But..." he gasped, "how did you get this?"

Levana snapped her head up, tears running down her face. "Channary did it, okay? She made me scar my own face when I was five. Are you done interrogating me?"

Saito's jaw dropped. "Your _sister_ did this?"

_(no Channary please stop it hurts I don__'__t want to play face-carving)_

Levana scoffed. "It actually _surprises _you, after what you just saw out there? What did you honestly expect? That she and I talk to each other like that, that it's normal? Ha! That's _hilarious_!"

Saito frowned. "Okay, calm down. I didn't mean to offend you in any way."

Levana glared at him.

His gaze softened. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

Levana turned away from him. "It doesn't matter," she muttered.

"Yes, it does." Saito surprised her by grabbing onto her metal wrist, holding it tightly. He looked at her straight in the eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Levana opened her mouth, but her words snagged in her throat. She wanted to refute Channary's claim, to call her a liar. But what would that get her? He could clearly see the metal monstrosity, her non-present gloves making it stick out like a sore thumb.

_(I__'__m sorry I know I disgust you I disgust everyone I just wanted you to like me I__'__m sorry)_

She opened her mouth again, unsure what she was going to say until the faint words came to her. "I didn't know how."

His eyes softened, little wrinkles forming in their corners. "I would have understood."

Almost imperceptibly, he inched closer, and Levana found her elbow crawling up his shoulder in a way that felt impossibly natural. Still, he did not back away. Did not shudder or tense.

He knew, but he wasn't disgusted? He would still touch her? Somehow, unbelievably, he still even, maybe, liked her?

_(I__'__m a liar I__'__m sorry I__'__m a liar)_

"It's just," she started, running her tongue across her lips, "it isn't something I like to talk about. I haven't told anyone who…who…" she hiccuped.

Saito looked at her, expectantly awaiting her answer.

Levana hung her head. "I didn't want you know how much of a freak I really am. How hideous I am. Because then, you would have hated me. And I didn't want to spend another night," she sniffed, "_alone._"

"Levana—"

"And don't tell me that I'm actually," Levana put her fingers in the air, folding them to make quotation marks, "_beautiful._ Because I'm not."

She found that she was shaking, sure that he would push her away at any moment. But he didn't. He did not pull away. Did not grimace.

"You're right, Levana. You're not beautiful."

She frowned, looking at the ground, at her hideous metal hand.

_No need to rub it in_.

He smiled, lifting her chin up with his fingers, making her look at him. "You're _gorgeous._"

A tingle tittered down her spine at how he was studying her, almost in childish awe, at how he was so close, at how he was still holding her wrist.

He seemed to realize it at the same time. His expression changed suddenly, and she knew he wasn't looking at her metal arm or the scars running down her face. He was looking at _her_.

"She's wrong. She doesn't know anything. There are people out there who would miss you if you were gone."

"Who? Who could ever miss someone like me?" she asked incredulously.

"I would."

She sniffed. "What?"

Saito didn't answer, only looking deep into her charcoal eyes.

"Levana?"

"Mmm?"

"Just to be clear, you're not using your mind powers on me right now, are you?"

She blinked. "Of course not."

"Just checking."

Then, he slid his hands up her arms to her shoulders and kissed her. She tensed up, eyes wide, caught off guard. The princess stayed like that for a moment, not knowing what to do, never having been kissed before.

After a few seconds, though, she melted into the kiss, her lips pressing back onto his, wrapping her arms around his neck. Hot tingles coursed through her body, surprising and scary but not unpleasant, surging like electricity through her veins. Her heart warmed and melted, all memories of earlier momentarily forgotten.

They stayed in a lip-lock until they were—quite rudely, I might add—interrupted by a certain someone loudly clearing their throat.

They broke apart, both their faces flushed from the kissing and their embarrassment. Rikan was standing in the doorway, glaring at both of them, his hands crossed over his chest.

"Saito, what do you think_ you are doing_?" he snapped. Saito rose to his feet, looking at his brother in the eyes. Levana stood as well, putting her glamour back up full force.

"It's none of your business, Rikan. What do you want?"

He huffed. "I just came to tell you that Torin has scheduled an early departure back to New Beijing, so you'd better come back to the room and get packed."

Saito raised an eyebrow. "Why leave so early?"

"To give the royal family a chance to," Rikan eyed Levana with contempt, "_grieve._"

Saito grit his teeth. "Thank you for telling me. I'll be with you in a moment."

"Don't be too long." Rikan said before leaving, glaring at Levana the whole time. She glared right back.

Letting out a sigh, Saito redirected his attention to Levana.

She gave him a sad smile. "It's a shame that you have to leave so soon."

"Well, it doesn't mean that we'll never see each other again."

"I hope so."

Saito dug something out of his pocket, a metallic grey chip the size of a fingernail. He held it out to her, its silver polish shimmering in the light.

Levana looked at it with curiosity. "What is that?"

"It's a D-COMM chip. So that we can keep in touch."

"Aren't there netlinks for that?"

"Yes, but those are monitored by the government. This way, we can talk without anyone listening in on our conversations," he smirked, "including Channary."

She smiled in return, about to take the chip from him, when he pulled back a bit.

"On one condition."

She quirked a slender eyebrow. "And what condition is that?"

He smiled. "That there are to be no more secrets between us."

Levana's breath caught in her throat. No secrets. No lies.

Well, just one. She thought she might have been a tiny bit—okay, no—a _lot_ in love with him. But there was no way she could tell him _that_. Not then, anyway.

Levana cleared her throat, flustered. "You have yourself a deal."

He smiled and gave her the chip. She put it on her desk, taking care not to lose it amidst all the junk on it. He pulled her in for one last kiss, making her smile and blush, before pulling away and saying goodbye.

Even after he left, Levana just stood there, blushing and grinning like an idiot. At the sound of gasping, she turned her head to see Akiho standing beside her, her sensor flashing.

"That was...the emperor...he..." The android let out an inhuman squeal. "EMPEROR SAITO ACTUALLY KISSED YOU!"

"Yeah," Levana sighed dreamily. "I know."

"I am so jealous right now. I mean, Emperor Saito!" Akiho raised an arm to her forehead. "Check my fans, I think I'm overheating."

Levana giggled, wiping away the mascara smudges beneath her eyes. "Really?"

Akiho didn't even seem to hear her. "I knew it! I knew you liked him too! I can't believe you actually met him! That he actually kissed you! It's not fair. Did I mention how much I hate you?"

Levana rolled her eyes. "Not yet."

"Well, I do. Sort of. Okay, I don't. I'm just being a jealous android."

"Well_, that's_ a relief," Levana said, tucking a few stray curls behind her ear. She looked over at the gleaming chip, still blushing profusely, her lips tingling where he had kissed her. Her first kiss. Not even aware of her actions, a metal finger came up and felt her swollen lip.

A small smile spread across her face. She was looking forward to speaking to him again.

_My dear Emperor Saito..._


	11. Chapter 10

**—****BOOK TWO****—**

_As time went on, the younger sister grew resentful, for the people of Earth would relish in the day that her elder sister brought forth, but shun and sleep through her beautiful night._

* * *

"Your Highness?"

Channary didn't even seem to hear whoever was calling her. Hunched over her desk with her chin resting on clenched fists, she just stared ahead, her eyes blank.

"Your Highness!" the voice said again, a bit louder this time.

The still-silently grieving Channary perked up and swiveled her head towards the unknown voice, ready to unleash all hell upon them.

Her gaze softened, however, when she took in the sight of the person standing before her. "Ah, Sybil. It's just you."

The thaumaturge cleared her throat. "I am dearly sorry for barging in on you like this, Princess, but I have retrieved some information that I feel should be given to you as soon as possible."

Channary quirked an eyebrow. "Is that so? What kind of information?"

"We have some information regarding Mr. Chandler Harvey."

"Chandler Harvey? Enlighten me." Channary gestured to the chair at the opposite side of her desk. "Please, take a seat."

Sybil sat down hesitantly, brushing back her unruly dark hair with her fingers. "Mr. Chandler Harvey is the shell inmate who assassinated Their Majesties," she lowered her head, "may they rest in peace."

The princess grit her teeth. "And what information do you have that is deemed urgent enough to share with me, Sybil?"

"Chandler Harvey has been executed a mere two hours ago—"

Channary interrupted her by letting out a loud sigh. "And how is this important?"

Sybil paused a bit, barely biting back an indignant huff. She knew that Channary was a bit snappy at the time, but the princess was really wearing down her patience. She kept her annoyance hidden, however. Like always. She didn't really feel like losing any limbs that day.

"With a little research, we have managed to dig up some information concerning his past," Sybil pulled some files up on the desk's netscreen, "and his family."

"Why show me this?" Channary said, resting her cheek against her knuckles, obviously bored.

"If you'll look here," Sybil angled the netscreen towards Channary, "you'll see that although he was divorced, he still has his ex-wife's name as his 'spouse'."

Channary raised her eyebrows.

"It has also been discovered," Sybil continued, "that for a three-month period, during which he was on the run from the law—convicted of theft and murder—his ex-wife had knowingly sheltered him in their household, in the outskirts of Artemisia."

That caught Channary's attention.

"Oh? And what is his ex-wife's name?" she inquired, her voice low and dangerous.

"Her name is Malissa Harvey. She still kept her husband's name after their split."

Channary's eyes widened. "Malissa? The one who works in the palace? The head maid?"

Sybil gulped. "Yes."

"Hmmm..." Channary's lips curled into a smirk. "Isn't that just convenient..."

Sybil cocked her head. "Milady?"

"Have Malissa Harvey summoned to the throne room in twenty minutes, and be sure that the guillotine is in place by the time I arrive."

Sybil's blood iced over, a pang of fear brewing in her gut. "Will that be all, Your Highness?"

Channary flashed her a sweet smile. "Yes, Sybil. Thank you."

Sybil rose to her feet and bowed, grabbing the netscreen and leaving the study without another sound. Channary clasped her hands together, heart racing with excitement.

The fun was about to begin.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

"Bored...oh, I am so booored!" Akiho sang softly, lying on her back on top of Levana's desk, tapping her prongs repeatedly against her hard metal body.

Sighing, she righted herself and pressed a button built into the desk, making the giant netscreen that hovered by the wall come to life, the multicoloured home menu dancing across Akiho's vision. She turned around and stared out the window, the sky still dark, although the clock read fifteen past eleven.

The screen behind her pinged, followed by a sweetly feminine voice: "Incoming direct communication for Princess Levana of Luna from Emperor Saito of the Eastern Commonwealth."

Akiho glanced over at Levana, who was still fast asleep. She would have rolled her eyes if she had any. The princess was always one to sleep like the dead. Instead of waking her, Akiho just squealed gleefully and turned over to the netscreen, blank but for a spinning globe, signalling an available comm.

"Screen, accept comm."

The screen brightened, and Akiho nearly swooned at the emperor's image that popped up on it.

"Hi!" she chirped.

The emperor shook his head, looking a bit perplexed. "Um...hello?

"Wow...Emperor Saito...you're even more handsome in real life…" Akiho sighed, setting her head on a fist.

Saito raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Akiho, and I'm Levana's certified android assistant/best friend."

The emperor blinked, clearly confused, but he went along with it, chuckling . "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Akiho."

Akiho sighed. "It's a great pleasure to meet _you_, Your Majesty. So, what are calling for?"

"Well, I was wondering if I could speak with Levana, if you don't mind."

"Levana? Oh, she's still sleeping."

His eyebrows shot up. "Still sleeping at eleven fifteen?"

"I know, right? But I don't think you'd want to see her anyway. She looks horrible in the morning."

Saito smiled. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. She always looks like she got struck by lightning, which, believe me, is _not_ as attractive as it sounds."

He laughed at that. "You know, you're really funny."

Akiho's sensor glowed. "You think I'm funny?" she breathed, enchanted by the emperor's compliment. She was snapped out of it, however, by soft mumbling from behind her.

"Mmmm..." Levana yawned and stretched her arms up, the thin material of her nightgown stretching taut over her body. "Akiho, who are you talking to?"

"The emperor, of course! Can you believe it? He just told me that I'm funny!" Akiho squealed. Levana, still half asleep, turned to the netscreen.

She wiped her eyes. "S-Saito?"

He let out a laughing snort. "Nice hair."

She gasped and put a hand up to her temple, knowing exactly what he saw. Her auburn curls were tangled all over her head, half knotted in places. She squeaked, ducking out of the camera's view.

"Akiho, how could you accept that comm when I'm not even _presentable_?!" Levana shouted, flustered.

The android sighed. "Because I wanted to look at his pretty face."

Levana rushed to her closet and pulled out a royal blue sundress, trying her best to make it to her bathroom unnoticed. She knew that she looked like a royal disaster, and the last thing she wanted was to embarrass herself. _Again_.

On went her dress, as well as some shoes that were haphazardly thrown around the previous day, and she took on the grueling task of taming her monstrous bedhead. It probably took about ten minutes, but she finally managed to untangle her hair and pin it up in a lazy ponytail. She quickly splashed water on her face and brush her teeth. Patting her cheeks dry, Levana sighed and looked at herself in the single mirror she had, satisfied with her half made-up appearance.

It would have to do.

Her fingers itched to put on the familiar gloves, but she restrained herself. Although she felt naked without them, she was going to make an effort. Saito said that he didn't care if she was a cyborg.

So why hide it? They did agree on no lies or secrets, after all.

She walked out, trying to look cool and collected, although on the inside, she was squealing like a little girl. When she came up in front of the netscreen, she couldn't help but swoon a little.

The emperor was so handsome, it should've been illegal.

His face was aglow and his lips were curled in a smile, laughing at the apparently hilarious tale that Akiho was telling him.

The android giggled. "So yeah, and that's how we met. Cool, huh?"

"What a...fascinating story." Saito cleared his throat. "Levana built you with a programming error?"

Akiho huffed. "I do NOT have a programming error!"

"That's enough, Akiho." Levana walked over and gently nudged her friend aside, seating herself on the chair that faced the desk. Akiho rolled away, albeit grudgingly.

Levana flicked an auburn curl behind her ear and set her chin in her palms, a blush creeping across her cheeks. Saito smiled. The two stared at each other with goo-goo eyes for what seemed like forever.

Akiho came forward and waved her metal arm in Levana's face. "Hello..."

Levana sighed dreamily.

"Hello!" Akiho said, louder this time.

The princess tilted her head. "You were saying something, Akiho?"

"I don't think she was..." Saito trailed off. He was too busy gazing at Levana's cute, love struck expression.

Akiho snapped her prongs. "Oh! Come on, guys! You're both acting like world-class saps." Her sensor flashed. "You know there's a problem when even _I _am sickened by the cheese."

Levana rolled her eyes and tore her gaze from Saito. She looked out her open balcony doors at the big, blue orb that filled up a big chunk of the sky.

Earth.

It was high up in the sky, the closest that it ever got to Luna, about halfway through the moon cycle. She gazed at the continent that she knew to be the Eastern Commonwealth. She imagined being there herself, being with Saito in person.

"The Earth looks so beautiful from up here..." Levana trailed off, "I wonder what it would be like to live there..."

"You want to live on Earth?" Saito inquired, his curiosity peaked.

Levana sighed. "It's my dream."

Saito smiled tenderly. "I promise you that you'll be able to come to Earth."

She turned to face him. "Really?"

Saito held a hand up, his expression suddenly serious. "Levana, I swear, someday you'll come to live with me in the Eastern Commonwealth. That is a promise." He put a hand on the screen. Levana placed her hand over his, aching to hold his hand for real, aching to be beside him, and not two worlds apart.

Literally.

"I wish it could be that simple..." Levana said, her heart racing.

"It can be," Saito lowered his hand, "if you wish hard enough. I mean, if you tell yourself _never_, then _never_ it shall be."

The princess looked down at her lap. "I just...don't understand."

Saito raised an eyebrow. "What is there not to understand?"

"I mean, why me? Why did you choose me? Why did you just come up to me all of a sudden? Why were you so bold?" The questions poured out of Levana's mouth, confusion and insecurity making her tremble slightly. "Wouldn't you prefer a nice earthen girl, who doesn't have the power to control you at her whim?"

Saito's face fell, saddened. "You can't control me over the net, and yet I still feel the same way as I did two days ago," he said. "I don't regret meeting you at all."

Levana's heart pounded, a soft, strange heat running through her body—one that she had felt every time she saw a picture of the emperor on the net. One that she had felt even before she understood what it was.

Saito ran a hand through his hair. "Honestly, I don't know," he sighed. "I can't explain it. When you walked out that first time, there was just something different about you. You were so beautiful, in such a different way from the others. From Channary."

The princess bit her bottom lip.

"You make me feel weird, in a way that no one else has ever made me feel before. I just felt the strong desire to talk to you, to get to know you. And as I got to know you, I was starting to recognize that feeling."

"And what feeling is that?" Levana said, picking at the lint between her metal joints.

Sajot took a deep breath. "Look, I know this might seem rushed, and weird, and totally crazy, but..."

A long pause.

"I'm quite sure that I'm falling in love with you. If I haven't already."

Levana's breath caught in her throat and her pulse roared like an ocean in her ears. He...loved her? He was being serious? "Really?"

Saito bit his lip. "Yes. I'm sorry if I'm rushing things..."

"No, no! It's not like that at all!" Levana held her hands out. "I just...I'm surprised," she sighed. "No one has ever said that to me before. You're the first person who has ever chosen me over Channary, who has ever shown any interest in me. You are the only person who has ever told me," she twirled an auburn curl around her finger, "that you love me."

Saito looked honestly surprised. "I can't see why. You're amazing."

Levana lowered her head. "No, I'm not."

"Of course you are! You're funny and, I must admit, very interesting. You're honest." Saito smiled. "And I really admire that. You're unlike anyone that I've ever met before."

She blushed even more, her heart gushing at the affectionate words.

"And although I may be an idiot for saying this—I love you."

"I—" she started, her cheeks flushed even more. "I love you too."

The warm, comforting silence returned.

"Saito?"

Levana and Saito both froze at the voice, that through the silence like an axe through a tree.

Saito cursed. "It's my brother. I'm sorry, Levana, I have to let you go, but I promise that I'll call you again soon."

Levana just stared at him, still caught in a stupor. "Of course. Thank you for calling."

Saito smiled, clearly in a hurry to disconnect. "Well, goodbye," he said, the clicking of keys and footsteps audible in the background.

"Goodbye..." Levana replied, just as the feed cut off and the screen returned to the home menu. She took a deep, shaking breath, her knees weak.

The feelings that overtook her mind made her giggle and smile like a fool. She sat there, breathless and stunned, still lost amidst the whirlwind of new sensations.

* * *

"_When somebody loves you..._"

Levana skipped down the halls, her feet clicking with every bouncy step. "_Everything looks beautiful__…_" she hummed, her bright and melodious voice echoing through the empty halls, bringing life to the grim atmosphere.

Suddenly, she froze. Levana turned her head, staring straight at the intricate doors that lead to the throne room. She frowned. How did she get there?

But the thing that intrigued her the most was the voices that she heard coming from it. _How strange, _she thought. There wasn't supposed to be any trials or meetings, in respect for the passing of the late king and queen. Curious, Levana pressed an ear to the door, pursing her lips.

A lilting voice cut through the muffled chatter. "You have knowingly sheltered a shell, and a fugitive at that. This treachery will not be overlooked, and as you know, the punishment for all these types of crimes is—"

Levana paled at the sound. Her blood running cold as ice in her fear, she pushed the door open.

"—death," the lilting voice finished with a sneer. Blinking, Levana let out a horrified gasp at the sight before her.

Malissa was on her knees, her thin neck placed between a hatchet and a wooden block. She held the rope of the hatchet in one hand, the other squeezed into a fist, and she was quite visibly trembling. Her once-honeyed skin looked sickly pale and her raven hair was lopsidedly loose from her otherwise perfect bun.

Channary stood not too far away, on the raised platform that held the pristine marble throne, her pink lips curled in a devious smirk. Malissa strained her neck to face the soon-to-be queen. She narrowed her emerald eyes, and if looks could kill, Channary would most likely be dead. "I will _never_ apologize," she spat.

Channary's wicked smile shone brighter. "How charmingly naïve!" She let out a spill of laughter. "You must be mistaken, for I do not want any apologies. Only your death." Tossing her hair off her shoulder, she laughed again. "Have fun with your dear husband, Mrs. Harvey!"

"DAMN YOU TO _HELL_!" Malissa roared, frothy spittle spewing from her chapped lips.

The crown princess merely laughed once more before snapping her fingers.

Levana barely had the time to scream 'no' before the hatchet dropped on the maid's neck.


	12. Chapter 11

Blood.

It was everywhere. Sticky, crimson liquid dripping down the walls of the throne room, tainting the floor red. It pooled around Levana's ankles, staining her white shoes.

Or at least it did, in her imagination.

In reality, the blood had only spread around the guillotine, Malissa's severed head mostly covered with it, rendering her blank, dead eyes invisible. A pained scream escaped Levana's lips, and she silenced herself instantly by clapping a hand over mouth.

_(oh god no so red so much red)_

Channary's head snapped around, meeting her sister's gaze. Her pink lips curled into a demonic grin, twisted and grotesque, and her hips swayed in a seductive manner as she sauntered over to the horrified girl. "Why, Levana! How nice of you to join us. What took you so long?" Her playful voice echoed through the throne room, sending a chill down Levana's spine.

The princess didn't say a word. She was too shocked, too horrified.

"Why so silent, little sister? You don't have an insolent comeback?"

Levana pointed a finger to the guillotine. "M-Malissa..."

Channary lilted her head. "What about her?"

"W-why?" she breathed, her entire body trembling. Tears of fear and shock were pooling in her eyes, threatening to overflow at any given moment.

_(how could you no Malissa didn__'__t deserve this how could you)_

"Oh, she was executed for treason," Channary said sweetly, holding her arms behind her back in a manner that nearly seemed bashful. "Didn't you know that she was married to the vermin who murdered Mother and Father? That she sheltered him while he was on the run from the law?"

"Why kill her, though?" Levana hiccuped. "How can you be so cruel?"

Channary sighed in mock hurt, placing a hand to her chest. "Cruel? Why, I was simply carrying out justice."

"How is this _justice_?" Levana spat.

The queen-to-be narrowed her eyes. "What you don't seem to understand, sister, is that when a queen threatens repercussions against someone who has wronged her, she must follow through on those threats. If she does not, she is inviting anarchy to her doorstep," Channary snapped, as if speaking to an annoying child. "Do you want anarchy, _Princess_?"

Levana lowered her head. "No," she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Precisely." Channary turned and sauntered back onto the platform, her silk dress whispering around her hips. She stopped right in front of the throne, her back to Levana. With grace fit for a queen, she waved a careless hand. "Go. I do not wish to see you again before dinner."

"But Channary—"

Levana's tongue iced over, and her eyes widened. She placed a hand on her jaw, but found it to be limp.

Channary clasped her hands in front of her. "I thought I told you to leave, not talk back." She turned to face her sister. "I'd be careful if I were you—because remember, Levana, that Mother and Father aren't here to protect you anymore. I could do anything I want to you." She smirked." Keep that in mind."

Levana felt sensation returning to her jaw, and she flashed a thankless smile at Channary.

_(but why should I listen to you you__'__re the worst and I hate you I hate you)_

Channary pointed a finger to the door. "Leave."

When Levana didn't move, Channary sneered and grabbed hold of her mind, twisting her bioelectricity, making her legs move for her.

_You will leave immediately._

Like a soulless vessel, Levana spun around and left the throne room, closing the door softly behind her.

* * *

Levana wandered aimlessly around the halls, like a lonely, lonely ghost. Her hand brushed the sleek wall, and only the faint tap of her shoe against the floor could be heard in the empty space. The faint twinkling of stars could be seen outside the glass ceiling of the corridor, the gleaming regolith arches blocking out most of the light.

The clock struck noon.

_Ding. Dong._

She watched as the pendulum on the ancient grandfather clock that adorned the entrance to the library swung back and forth, lulling her into a hypnotic trance.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

_"Hickory Dickory Dock..."_

She brushed her pale, human fingers on the clock's hands, her index on the minute and her pinkie on the hour. "_The mouse ran up the clock..._" she continued to hum.

"_The clock struck one and the mouse ran down..._"

Her hand slid down the clock and fell to her side, making the blue skirt of her dress ripple a bit.

"_Hickory Dickory Dock._"

* * *

Levana just paced around the palace for a while.

She knew no other way of coping with her grief. How wonderful that day had started out, with Saito's call and his life-saving words, and then it all came crashing down with Malissa's horrific, gruesome murder.

_Murder._ Not execution. Malissa had done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve death. It had nothing to do with 'justice'. Channary just wanted someone to take out her anger on, and Levana was apparently no longer enough.

She had killed her in cold blood.

Her childhood nanny. The woman that she trusted more than anyone else in all the world. When Levana had a problem, she always went to Malissa. When she first bled, she didn't even go to her own mother, knowing that she would just send her away before she could even get a word in, and Channary was out of the question. Instead, she went to tell Malissa about it, who simply smiled and told her everything she had to know. She didn't make fun of her, or call her ignorant or immature. Malissa had helped cultivate her love for technology, and had told her about the brand-new android that her father had thrown away. She had helped her find her best friend, and for that she was forever grateful.

_(I__'__ll miss you forever I promise your death hasn__'__t been in vain I will avenge you someday I promise I swear)_

Endless tears ran down Levana's cheeks, a stream never stopping, leaving small puddles on the floor as she walked along. She didn't sob or scream, but she cried. She cried a lot.

Her drone-like movements ceased as she passed by a veiled portrait, an artistic masterpiece swathed in sheer, dark cloth.

A painting of her parents.

In respect and mourning for the late king and queen, the servants and thaumaturges had placed vases of exquisite bouquets around their official court portrait, and by tradition, the painting was draped in black, to make their deaths seem a bit more bearable, as if hiding their faces could make them come back somehow.

_(no one wants you back here don__'__t think for a moment that they do)_

Levana wanted to take it down and spit on it. Or throw it in the fire. Or doodle vulgar, hairy moustaches on her dead parents' faces.

Before she could indulge in her dream of vandalism, though, she stormed down the halls to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

"Levana?" s small, slightly metallic voice rose from the middle of the room.

The princess pinched the bridge of her nose with her metal fingers. "What is it, Akiho?"

Akiho clicked her prongs together. "Aren't you supposed to be at the funeral?"

Levana's head snapped up, her brow creased in confusion. "What funeral?"

"Their Majesties'. Didn't you know that it was today?"

Levana paled. "No. No one told me."

"Oh. I assumed that you knew," Akiho said.

Levana brushed past the android, her hands on her hips. "Why did no one tell me about this?!" She spun around, surprise flooding her face.

"Well..." Akiho held her hands behind her back. "Maybe Channary didn't want you to know. So that you wouldn't be there."

Levana's hands fell to her sides. "Of course," she sneered. "Why does that not surprise me?"

She went over to her closet and pulled out a black dress, inlaid with onyx shards the color of her eyes. Without stopping to think about it, she flung off her blue dress and slipped on the black one, tossing it somewhere in the room. She didn't even care where it went. Her hair was a bit of a mess, but didn't have time to brush and restyle it. Quickly, she conjured up a glamour of herself with immaculate hair, sleeked back in fluffy curls like a renaissance princess. She sighed as she slipped into the illusion and let it settle in her mind.

For the finishing touch, she grabbed some black gloves from her massive collection and flew out the door, saying 'goodbye' to Akiho over her shoulder. As she marched down the hall to the courtyard, Levana slipped her gloves on, letting each one snap on her wrist.

She was ready.

But, of course, she wasn't going to the funeral because she wanted to. Who in their right mind would go to a long, boring ceremony held for people who just cast you aside your whole life? Rather, she was just going to spite Channary.

Levana wanted to show her that no matter how low she stooped, she would always stand tall, would never cower and hide.

* * *

As soon as Levana entered the lavish palace chapel, her nostrils were attacked by the sickly sweet smell of midnight black roses. The many, many flowers adorned the chapel to commemorate Luna's dead sovereigns, unable to conceal the iron tang of dried blood.

Levana barely held back a gag. She absolutely despised roses.

She silently slipped beside Channary just as the priest came up to the altar, the congregation rising and the choir picking up with the entrance hymn. Channary's lips curled into a frown as she noticed her sister's presence.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed between her teeth, her brown eyes sharp as needles.

Levana didn't flinch, although she should have. "I'm here for my parents' funeral, thank you very much."

Channary would have said more, had the priest not cleared his throat and addressed the people. The two sisters glared at each other before looking straight ahead, not paying the other any mind.

The funeral rites began, and Levana nearly yawned, but caught herself as soon as her hand left her side. She was to remain fully poised and composed. The prayers were in Latin, and they were long and boring, and Levana didn't understand a word of it.

It was a blast.

Channary didn't cry, her face stoic, but it was evident that she was trying to hold back tears. Her hands were clenched into fists and she bit her lip so hard that she drew a bit of blood.

Levana was, simply put, bored out of her skull. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her face emotionless and indifferent. Her black dress billowed around her ankles with the artificial breeze, and the pleasant coolness tittered down her spine.

Good, because it was getting hot in there.

As Levana stared at the caskets, she couldn't help but imagine that it was Malissa's body in one of them, that the fancy, over-the-top ceremony was for her. She deserved it a hell of a lot more than her parents did. Malissa was more of a mother to her than Queen Jannali could've ever been.

Levana hadn't even shed a tear for either of her parents. But she spent hours crying for Malissa. She would always miss her.

"_Heaven got another angel the night,_"

Finally, a single tear broke through Levana's stony facade, running down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away.

"_You left this world behind__…_"

* * *

The guard stood tall and proud, in a straight line with all his comrades beside him. They lined the aisle running down the middle of the chapel, their hands on the hilt of their swords, their heads lowered in respect for the late King Marrok and Queen Jannali.

The whole country was in mourning for their lost monarchs. He remembered the sickly sweet scent of the midnight black roses, that made him feel dizzy, and that didn't do much to help conceal the scent of blood that wafted throughout the chapel. Although he was not at the gala himself, he had heard rumors that the late king and queen were murdered so viciously that their blood painted the walls of the ballroom red. So much blood had drained out that it took hours to wash and ready their bodies in preparation for the funeral.

Even then, the funeral was exclusively closed casket. He wasn't even sure he wanted to see their dead bodies anyway. They had always freaked him out.

There was no noise save for the rustle of pressed suits and stiff high collared black dresses and the drone of eulogies. Everyone was eerily silent and he remembered being slightly afraid, clutching the hilt of his sword much tighter than he should have. The congregation was a sea of blank white faces. There were no cries, no wails, not even from the king's two daughters. Princess Channary, however, still looked in agonizing pain, sadness contorting her perfect features in odd ways.

Princess Levana just stared stonily in the distance, as if she were just at some boring old event. It shook him a bit, her indifference to her own parents' deaths.

"Is something troubling you, Sir Hayle?"

He jumped a little as Sybil approached him and eyed him with scrutiny, as she did with all the guards. He quickly composed himself, staring ahead as he was taught to do when addressing royal thaumaturges. "No, Thaumaturge Mira. I am simply shaken up by the ceremony, as we all are."

She nodded, her grey eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Good. Now stay focused."

The guard lowered his head, like everyone else, but he never tore his gaze from Levana, the object of his obsession.

She was so beautiful.

_(my princess you__'__re the fairest in all the land I wish I could tell you that I would whisper it in your ear)_

The little girl that he once knew was no more. She had grown up nicely, her small curves feminine and fragile, of average height, her skin clear and luscious. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arm around her slim waist, to kiss her soft lips until the end of time. He wanted to hug her body, to feel her warmth close to him.

A persistent heat rose up in his cheeks, and his grip on his sword tightened even more.

_(oh why must she do this to me this isn__'__t fair look away look away for your own sanity)_

Unbeknownst to him, the crown princess had noticed him staring at her sister. She recognized the way he looked at her, with the same primal hunger as her many lovers had in their eyes as they would be tangled together in lust and passion.

A nearly invisible smile pulled at her lips, and a plan started to form in her mind.

It was brilliant. The perfect thing to break Levana down for good, to hit her where it really hurt.

And her plan involved Evret Hayle, captain of the royal guard.


	13. Chapter 12

Three months had passed since that day.

In the sparkling city of Artemisia, the citizenry was bustling with contagious excitement for the first time since their monarchs' deaths. The day that they had been waiting for had finally arrived.

The coronation of a new queen.

Instead of dark, dreary houses, the buildings were aglow and swathed in traditional celebratory decor, giving the city life. The dome had been cleared of the usual on and off day cycles, leaving it clear, giving the spectacular view of the space beyond, stars and nebulae gleaming and glowing. Floral 'may poles' were being set up with ribbons, and every lamp pole leading to and from the palace was hung with the image of a woman's head bearing a crown.

Artemisia's port was filling up quickly with spacecraft, most coming from Earth. The majority of the lunar diplomats travelled from their respective cities in the underground transit system that panned across all of Luna. Over a hundred foreign nobles in all were coming in that day, from all over the world. Forty of them had already arrived, with more coming in by the minute.

It was truly a sight to behold.

After all, the gates hadn't been open for a while. It had been three months since anyone had seen the lunar princesses.

If the king had a male heir, he could have been crowned king at the age of eighteen. However, he had only daughters, and according to custom, there could be no female ruler until she was twenty-four years of age. The idea was that the princess would find someone to marry in that time, and then he would become king instead.

No such occasion ever came to pass.

All the rumours had said, that in all of the galaxy, there was not a woman like Channary of Luna. A woman who seemed to radiate a natural 'nobility' and 'regality' from her body, who had such sophistication and grace matched only by her beauty.

And so, several suitors, had passed letters to her for a time. They had shown up in the court, with several attempts to woo her. There _was_ one time when she had shown interest in one of her suitors, but otherwise, she had just waved every single one of them away, deeming them 'unfit' and 'inadequate'. That they weren't husband or king all honesty, though, she just wasn't really fond of the idea of 'commitment'. Having been raised in a world where monogamy was as common as an earthen eclipse, she was turned off by the idea ever since she had taken on her first lover. Where was the fun in only having relations with one person for the rest of your life?

There was none.

So, she never married, much to her mother's disappointment. The queen had always wanted a son-in-law—not that it mattered anymore, though.

As the rumors had it, there was the purported story that Princess Levana was quite lovely as well, almost as bright and sunny as summer itself, and there was a potential suitor for her intermingled with the crowd, a certain emperor whom was dying to see her again.

The growing crowd of nobles was abuzz with rumors and activity, all of them talking to each other about what was about to transpire, and those whom had never been to Luna were wondering what the gleaming palace and the royalty within it were like. A few passing aristocrats from the United Kingdom stopped to admire the gleaming palace from a distance, out of the way of the swarming crowd entering the gates.

King Hughes let out a joyful sigh. "Ah, my sore eyes can't wait see the queen and the princess!"

His wife, Camilla, smiled in response. "I bet that they are truly lovely ladies."

Their eldest son piped up. "Yes, absolutely beautiful!"

They continued to chat as the rest of the city rushed in preparation for the ceremony. Women were hustling in gowns, fussing over every single detail. Men in suits were trying to pacify their stressed-out wives, and children were running and playing about the streets.

All this went on as more spacecraft continued to arrive with last-minute guests, and everyone gathered near the looming gates of the palace as the appointed time came near.

* * *

Levana was not exactly the 'vision of loveliness' most had of her at that moment.

Being nineteen years of age and often bored with nothing to do except run around the palace, she didn't bother getting up too early. On this particular day, however, she had been awake half the night with anticipation for that morning.

As a result, she was sleeping in, and looking rather unflattering at that. She was in a discombobulated mess within her tangled bedcovers, her lovely brown hair splayed around her head like some sort of mangy lion. It didn't help that one strand of hair seemed unaffected, dangling off by its lonesome to one side—or that another strand of her hair had been sucked into her mouth as she drooled out the opposite side, snoring loudly.

So loud, in fact, that the servant at her door had to escalate his knocking almost to a pounding before he elicited a response, but even then, only after about five minutes of it.

"Princess Levana?" he called in for what had to be the tenth time.

Luckily for him, that seemed to do the trick. Giving a bit of a gagging snort, Levana muttered and then absent-mindedly wiped her mouth, pulling her hair free, and then sat up in bed. She let out an incoherent mutter, her eyes still closed.

"Milady? Are you awake?" the voice called in.

"Mmm...hmm?" Levana muttered, only half-conscious. "Wha...yeah..."

"Am I disturbing you?"

"Wha...huh...no, no!" she said with a pleasant smile on her face—with her head sagging and her eyes still closed. She gave a weak stretch. "No...I've been..." She paused to let out a yawn. "...up for hours..." she finished; before her face began to sink and the beginnings of a snore started to come out of her lips as her consciousness faded again.

The servant knocked again. "Um...Your Highness?"

Levana's head snapped up, her hair flying around her shoulders. "What is it?"

"I'm just telling you that you need to get ready."

"Oh yeah...ready...I'm ready...'course I'm ready..." she muttered.

A pause.

"Ready for what?"

The servant made a bit of a face on the other side of the door. "Her Majesty's coronation, miss?"

"Her Majesty's…corner...ration?" At last, Levana opened a sleepy eye, which bore a glazed look on it for a moment before it managed to focus enough to look ahead of her.

She just managed to see the clothes she had picked out for that day resting on a mannequin—a beautiful purple dress with shoulder straps that hung on the upper arms, with a bejewelled bodice laced with pearls that went with her studded black shoes. A simple diamond pendant rested above it, on the neck.

It was as if someone had just taken a pail of ice water, mixed it with the strongest coffee imaginable, and threw it in her face. At once, her sleepiness vanished as she nearly gasped in delight. In an instant, the covers were off and Levana was literally exploding out of bed.

"Are you up now, Your Highness?" the servant called again, clearly impatient.

"Yes, I'm up! You can go now!" the princess responded, slipping the gown off the mannequin.

She didn't even know that it was physically possible for someone to get ready as fast as she did. In all honesty, she would have run downstairs looking like something the cat had dragged in with her nightgown still on if she could have. As it was, she gave herself such a quick and violent scrubbing and washing that she thought she nearly peeled off her skin.

She was a bit stunned at her own ability to tame her hair and fix it behind her head in what she could only hope was something both elegant and alluring—more importantly the second than the first. Her auburn curls were left free, save for a few strands in the front that were twisted together and pinned behind her head with strings of seedling pearls. Her dress went on as well as her shoes and, in spite of them being more of the formal kind, she ran with them out of the door to her room and quickly began to tear down the hall.

Only once her stomach growled did she realize that she had forgotten about breakfast. She didn't have time for things like 'breakfast' on a day like that one.

Once she reached the staircase that descended down to the ballroom, she jumped up and slid down the railing, holding her hands up as if she were on a roller coaster. She felt as light as a feather as she reached the bottom and leaped off, sliding on her feet across the beautiful, decorated ballroom, its silver chandeliers shining and shimmering. The scent of honey and garlic made her stomach rumble even more as she slid past the abundance of food tables.

Levana suddenly skid to a halt in front of the chocolate table and eyed a plate of sugary confections hungrily, licking her lips. She just couldn't help herself. After all, she had skipped breakfast, and she ended up stuffing her face with three or four truffles before quickly rinsing her teeth out with a glass of water, ensuring that there was no chocolate left between them.

After her little…_snack_, she tore down the halls until she reached the foyer, where she flung the front doors open and charged across the courtyard, water from the nearby fountains spraying her ever so slightly as she breezed past them. By the time she got to the front, the outer gate had already been opened, and people were already pouring across the shimmering bridge than ran over the Artemisia Lake. Soon after, with a sound that seemed like heaven itself unlocking, the large latch of the main part of the gates of Artemisia undid, and the massive regolith doors opened.

At once, Levana burst forth from the gate and ran down the bridge—probably the only person around who was going the _opposite_ way. She ran and skipped, practically dancing as she grabbed onto the nearest light pole and swirled around it, letting her body dangle off the bridge, her foot nearly touching the crystalline waters.

One might wonder how it would look to have a princess running and frolicking about unescorted. However, the older days in which royalty would wear completely impractical dresses and stay shut up in the palace on Luna had largely passed. That said, Levana was a bit more uncontrollable in that regard. While Channary may have preferred to conduct herself that way, not so with her. And although she was dressed lovely enough to immediately be unmistakable for a rich woman or a noble, her behaviour definitely wasn't that of a lunar princess.

She didn't really care, though. She was on a mission. She was trying to find her 'prince charming'.

_(ah Saito I__'__ve missed you where are you my love I want to see you)_

Could anyone look into Levana's mind at that moment, they might have begun to think she was being a tad on the naïve side. But those same people likely hadn't spent years inside a lonely, desolate palace. They likely hadn't had their contact with the opposite gender limited to family members, servants, and romantic stories where young women like her, or even younger than her, found the handsome, rich men of their dreams and instantly went off to live happily ever after.

And they likely hadn't spent years wishing, hoping, _dreaming_ that some fantasy like this would come true, followed by months of planning it out in minute detail.

_(you__'__re like a dream you__'__re like chocolate I love you I love being with you)_

She and Saito had commed each other every day since the disastrous gala, and over those months, had only fallen even more in love with each other. They talked about anything and everything, showed each other their talents and hobbies. Saito was awed by Levana's many drawings and sketches, and she was fascinated in turn by his heavenly voice. He would oftentimes sing her to sleep with a serenade, and no sound was more comforting to her than his.

_(your songs are so sweet I can__'__t get enough sing to me forever)_

Had he not been a monarch, he would've made a mighty fine musician.

The echo of his voice rang in her head as Levana ran through the sea of nobles, her heart racing, her hair flying behind her. She closed her eyes as she ran down the port, her arms spread, as if she were to take off any minute, and fly like a bird.

Until she slammed face-first into the hard, metal hull of a nearby spacecraft.

The princess cried out and held a hand to her forehead, that was most likely bruised after the hard impact. "Ow..." she whimpered, rubbing her forehead, trying to soothe the pain.

"Now, Levana, I know that you're excited to see me, but please don't break your neck."

Levana perked up at the smug, playful voice behind her. She turned around to face none other than Saito, who was smiling mischievously.

She beamed. "Saito..."

He chuckled and put a hand in his pocket. "Hey, Firecracker."

She blushed at his nickname for her, and went over to hug him, but was caught her by surprise as he instead pulled her into a kiss. She eagerly returned it, wrapping her arms around his neck, her bones singing at the warm touch.

"You have no idea how badly I wanted to do that," he whispered huskily in her ear when they finally broke apart. She blushed and put a hand on his chest, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close to him.

They just stayed like that, without saying anything, until far in the distance, back at the chapel within the palace, the steeple bells began to ring. Levana didn't even notice at first, burying her face in his jacket, his earthy yet musky scent making her giddy.

However, by the time the third bell rang, she blinked a few times and lost her look, straightening up a bit. She pulled back and looked up at Saito's face.

The bells...

Channary's coronation.

Saito seemed to realize it at the exact same time.

"Well, it looks like we should make our way to the chapel..." He grasped one of her gloved hands, squeezing it lovingly. "May I escort you, Milady?"

Levana giggled. "Of course, _Your Majesty_."

He nugdged her arm playfully. "I thought we agreed on no more 'Your Majesty'."

"You're right." Levana kissed his cheek. "We did."

He smiled and they walked off, hand in hand, to the coronation ceremony.


	14. Chapter 13

An hour had passed, and the coronation ball was moments from beginning.

Following the official naming of Channary as queen of Luna, the people gathered in the chapel gradually dispersed and made their way into the Artemisia Palace—in particular the ballroom, where the main event was to be held in the fullness of splendour.

The room was abuzz with activity. Most were remarking at how lovely the palace looked, and how the city had a warmer climate and more pleasant landscape than any had anticipated. There was also talk of how lovely the court and thaumaturges were, and how elegantly and regally Channary conducted herself.

The orchestra played an upbeat and pompous piece, the melody putting on an air of regality throughout the splendid ballroom. As the song ended, everyone bowed and chatter filled the empty space once again.

At last, the announcement was made by Charleson, the courtier. "If I may have everyone's attention."

At once, the discussion drifted away, and everyone faced the front of the ballroom, toward the awning where the marble throne sat, moved from the throne room for the occasion.

Charleson cleared his throat, and then gestured. "Her Lunar Majesty, Queen Channary!"

At once, everyone gave their full attention and respect to the side of the room, as the queen, looking just as elegant and regal as before, walked onto the awning, her long flowing cape trailing behind her, her head held high and perfectly poised, and her hands calmly folded in front of her. She soon came to the middle of the platform, right in front of her throne, and then stood before the crowd, giving them all a fair smile, the kind one would expect from any 'proper' noblewoman.

"Her Lunar Highness, Princess Levana!"

As he finished saying that, Levana immediately came running, so excited that she completely forgot about the 'grace and poise' rule. Nearly stumbling in her heels, she rushed up to the front of the room as fast as she could, barely managing to get there before the courtier finished the announcement. Once there, she quickly folded her own hands in front of her, looked to the crowd, and grinned.

However, she couldn't do so long before the courtier came up to her and indicated up further, showing that she was supposed to be standing right next to Channary. _Right next _to her. Less than two feet apart. For a moment, Levana paled at that, and almost said 'no' before the courtier gently took her arm and led her up. She found herself placed next to Channary in front of the room. Her older sister continued to smile forward, as always not even seeming to notice her. Levana herself tried to put her best face forward, to keep her discomfort hidden from the crowd. She couldn't remember the last time she was that close to Channary—but before she could dispute it, she was forced to simply stand there and try to stay calm as the nobles gave them both acclaim and applause.

The clapping died after a moment and the ball was officially underway. The orchestra that had been brought in to play music struck up the first real song, and the nobles immediately turned to one another to start pairing up for the first dance. Some went to the food, others struck up conversation, but soon the room was filled with the activity of a ball. All in all, it was a fairly merry affair.

Levana peered over to the crowd, her eyes squinted, trying to find a certain someone amongst the sea of tailored suits and brightly coloured ballgowns. To her dismay, however, there were just too many people dancing and moving about to be able to identify any one individual. She sighed and clasped her hands together in front of her, rocking back slightly on her heels, glancing up at her perfect sister.

The princess nervously tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Um...hi."

Channary just stared straight ahead, her pleasant smile never faltering. Levana felt a twinge of annoyance in her gut as she cleared her throat.

"Hello!" she said, a bit louder than before. The queen's head whipped around, her brown eyes smouldering, seeming to pierce through Levana's very soul.

_(oh what did I do now)_

"Who gave you," Channary's lips curled into a menacing sneer, "the permission to _speak_?" she spat. She seemed to grow even taller, the illusion of loveliness fading, the serene queen disappearing, replaced with the demonic sister that Levana had rightfully feared her whole life.

The princess shuddered, trying to move away from the aura of fear and hatred that Channary was giving off. "All I said was hello..." she muttered, barely above a whisper. Channary sighed and rolled her eyes, about to say something that was most likely a cruel insult, until she was interrupted by a man suddenly walking up to the sisters.

_(I knew that you would come I__'__ve been waiting for you)_

Levana's heart raced and her knees nearly turned to jelly. It was Saito.

The emperor bowed. "Your Majesty."

Channary curtsied in return. "Your Majesty," she replied, smiling. "To what do I owe you the pleasure of your company?"

"I was wondering if could have this dance?"

"Why, of course—" Channary started, but was quickly interrupted by Saito, who took a step closer and held a hand out towards Levana.

"I was addressing Her Highness," he said, his tone far too sharp.

Levana barely bit back a laugh at Channary's shocked face, her hanging jaw. No one on Luna would have the audacity to brush the queen off, much less for her younger sister. The princess took a step forward and accepted his hand, a smug grin on her face. "It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty."

He smiled and led her away from the awning, squeezing her hand slightly. She squeezed it back. Right before they disappeared into the midst of the crowd, Levana looked over her shoulder and threw a mocking smile at Channary.

As the two royals walked away and went off to mingle with the other nobles, the queen stood behind, her blood boiling. She felt a sudden urge to kill the insolent emperor, to spill his blood like wine.

And then Levana dared to look over her shoulder and smile at her, as if she were mocking her. _Making fun_ of her.

_That little__—_

_(oh you little brat how dare you do you know who I am I__'__ll squash you like a bug)_

She caught herself as she felt her hands bunching up, fisting the material of her exquisite gown, surely wrinkling it. She took a deep, shaking breath, making an effort to stamp down her temper. Her breathing returned to normal as her fists relaxed, and she smoothed out her fingers against her skirt. Within seconds, she had regained her composure, and looked every bit the image of a perfect monarch.

Although inside, her mind was running rampid, She went back to memories of the previous months, of diplomatic meetings over the net with the earthen world leaders, and in particular those with Emperor Saito. They had been feverishly discussing an alliance, and so far not much has come to fruition. She had only one condition, but the stubborn emperor refused instantly every time she made her requirements clear.

In exchange for peace, for military and financial support, Channary wanted only one thing in return. Power over the Eastern Commonwealth.

A marriage to Emperor Saito.

So it troubled her quite a bit when instead of trying to be with her, the foolish emperor instead went after her sister, of all people.

Channary shook her head. She was getting way ahead of herself. She didn't know what business Saito had with Levana, but she was certain that it was nothing of significance. After all, who in their right mind would ever pick Levana over _her_?

_(you__'__re the most beautiful no one can match you certainly not crybaby Levana)_

She sighed and plucked a glass of champagne off the tray that a passing servant held as he walked by, the cool glass refreshing against her flushed skin. She brought the glass up to her pink lips and took a sip of the fiery liquor, the liquid burning her throat as it went down.

She swept her tongue discreetly over her teeth and pressed her lips into a thin line.

Whatever was going on between Levana and Saito was history.

Because she was going to stop, even if it was the last thing she ever did.

* * *

They danced quite a bit before Saito suggested that they go for a walk outside, to get some fresh air and to get away from the prying eyes of the crowd and the queen.

He also had something of utmost importance that he wanted to ask her, but he didn't mention that little detail.

After walking around the top floor of the palace, they made it to biggest balcony in the building, a glass platform with a breathtaking view of all of Artemisia. Levana took his hand and led him over to a crystalline bench that sat right in front if the railing. They sat themselves upon it and gazed over at the sparkling city. Normally, the sight would have cast a spell on any onlooker, but Saito felt his stomach churn, maybe from the heavy food—but that was doubtful. Rather, it seemed more like fear and sadness over the paradise that disguised his beloved's prison. Over the fake smiles and constant masks of the people around him.

In a moment of boldness, he took Levana's chin with his fingers and prodded her to face him. Her eyes grew wide with concern at his unhappy expression.

"What is it?" she asked, a pang of worry brewing in her gut.

_(did I do anything wrong oh god he__'__s upset but why what did I do)_

He cupped her face in his soft hands. "I wish I could take you far, far away from here so you could be safe, and happy. I hate that she hurts you so much," Saito said softly, inching closer to her so that their noses almost touched. He put a hand on her back and held her gently, as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

"I promise you, Levana. Someday I will get you away from her, and you and I will live happily ever after," he said, making tears form in her eyes. She flung her arms around his neck, pulling her face into it, and she began to cry as he gently rubbed her back, whispering "I love you," over and over again.

"You can't really do that," she mumbled into his neck. "Channary would have you arrested before you could even leave Artemisia."

"She couldn't if you were my empress."

Levana pulled her head back, wiping her eyes, looking puzzled. "Wait—what?"

Saito took one of her hands in his own, smiling brightly. He got down on one knee and pulled out a black, velvet box. "Levana, will you marry me?"

For a moment of silence, Levana stared at him with a hand on her chest, almost completely aghast. She didn't know what to say. It took her a moment to even understand the question.

_(marry me Levana marry me I__'__ll make you happy I love you more than anything and I__'__ll keep you safe)_

She couldn't believe it. She had met the perfect man, and now there he was, really kneeling before her, and actually asking for her hand in marriage. It seemed so sudden, so overwhelming, like the greatest fantasy she had was coming true—like it couldn't possibly be real.

Then, she thought of home. She thought of the closed doors, the judging stares, the isolation, the abuse, spending hours and hours walking through the halls with no one to talk to but herself. Not knowing if she would ever have the chance to meet anyone else and, if she did, if they would be even half the man Saito was, if they could ever love her the way he did.

And how wonderful those past few months were, how every day seemed like magic. How Saito hung on to her every word, went with her to play all those crazy, silly games, who gave her the love she had desperately wanted for so long.

Did she want to marry him, to spend the rest of her life with him? To go and live with him on Earth, to leave Luna and never return?

_Duh._

There was only one answer to that.

She let out a laugh, her smile so big that it hurt her cheeks. "Y-yes! Stars, yes!"

Saito's grin became even bigger, shone even brighter. "Close your eyes."

"Why?"

He chuckled. "You'll see."

She felt him take her left hand and hold out her ring finger, and after a moment, she felt something hard slide onto it. She opened one of her eyes a tiny bit, and he lightly slapped her hand.

"No peeking," he said playfully, making Levana laugh a bit before closing her eyes once again.

A few more rustling sounds. "Okay. You can open your eyes now."

Her onyx eyes flew open, and she let out a small gasp. On one of her fingers was a ring, and it was probably the most beautiful thing she had ever seen or worn, a platinum band with small, delicate crystals lining the edge, and a gorgeous diamond circled with thin branches of ivy made of silver rest on the middle.

_(ah so nice I love it it__'__s amazing such a lovely gem such shiny gold I love it)_

"Oh Saito, it's beautiful..." she sighed, dapping at her tears.

He ran a hand through his hair. "It was my grandmother's engagement ring. She and my grandfather were married for sixty years, so I figured that it would bring us luck."

Levana held her hand to her chest, a goofy smile on her lips. Saito looked at her the same way. "I love you," he breathed, reaching out his hand and lightly brushing her face.

She caught him by surprise as she flung her arms around his neck and her lips met his, leading them into a hot, passionate kiss. Her fingers tangled themselves in his black hair and his arms wound themselves around her waist, bringing them even closer together.

They stayed like that, locked in each other's embrace, until many hours had passed, but they didn't care. They didn't even notice.

They loved each other, and that was all that mattered.


	15. Chapter 14

"Levana, I really don't think that this is the best idea..." Saito declared as his fiancée pulled him along by the arm down the winding palace hallways.

"Oh, hush! We need to tell Channary! After we get her blessing, we can go back to Earth together! I just can't wait!" Levana's face was aglow with joy and excitement, a big smile making

her look even more angelic.

"Yes, but—" he cut himself off as soon as he realized that his attempts to argue with her were in vain. She was way too excited and elated about the whole thing to see reason.

"What were you saying?" She turned to him and gave him a questioning look, before dismissing him and turning to the big double doors of the ballroom. "Oh look, we're here!"

She hooked her arm around his and pushed the ballroom door open, where they were met with the joyous and regal aura of the royal party. She led him through the crowd of dancing nobles, both making sure not to fall or bump into anyone, before they made it into the middle of the ballroom, where Channary was standing. At that moment, she was greeting two nobles, a couple, in the way she always did everything—perfectly dignified and proper. She kept her hands folded in front of her and bowed her head to them.

However, Levana didn't really mind that right now.

"Channary!"

The queen turned her head to her sister on hearing her call. The two nobles excused themselves, moving to one side to rejoin the party. As Channary, albeit grudgingly, fully turned to face Levana, the princess finished dragging Saito right up to her and to a halt.

"Your Majesty." Saito bowed.

Channary nodded her head ever so slightly in response, forcing a pleasant smile. She then turned her gaze to Levana, her brow furrowing slightly in irritation. "What is it that you want, Levana?"

"I..." Levana gazed up at Saito, "No, _we, _would like your blessing..." she let out a barely restrained squeal, "for our marriage!"

Channary's forced smile faded and turned immediately into confusion. "What...'marriage'?"

"Well..." Levana bit her lip, "Saito asked me to marry him...and I said yes!" She grinned from ear to ear, holding onto the emperor's arm and nearly bouncing up and down. A moment later, she rolled her eyes a bit and gestured. "Well, there is one thing, though..."

Now, the confusion and incredulousness began to be mixed with another emotion in Channary—a surge of fury. She glowered internally, her blood boiling. "And what is that?"

"Well, I'd live on Earth with Saito, of course, and I'd be leaving tonight. I hope that doesn't bother you, does it? Because, I mean, I'm pretty sure that you'd love to get me out of your hair—"

Channary cut her off by clearing her throat and clasping her hands together. "That is enough." Her stern tone made Levana fall silent, and a feeling of dread started to brew in her stomach.

"May I speak to the both of you," Channary looked around the ballroom, "_alone_?" she said, much softer this time.

Both Saito and Levana looked at each other, their gazes flooding with fear and concern. Channary sensed this, slipping into their minds and planting feelings of relief and security, making them relax and stare eagerly at the queen. She smiled with false sweetness. "Follow me," she beckoned, her voice soft and saccharine.

They nodded lazily and followed Channary to the back entrance of the ballroom, and as they walked, the queen called over her head thaumaturge, who joined them in an instant, as well as the captain of the royal guard. He saluted his comrades before walking out of the ballroom at Sybil's side, the both of them staring straight ahead, their faces a blank slate.

The five of them continued to walk down a long dark hallway before making it to one of the many sitting rooms that made up that floor of the palace. The guard opened the door and held it wide, allowing the others into the room before entering and closing the door behind him, standing tall with his arms behind his back, blocking the exit so that no one could leave.

The room's light came on and everyone stayed silent for a moment, before Channary erased the artificial feelings glamoured into Levana and Saito's minds, and both began to panic a bit, although they hid their fear and discomfort behind stoic faces. Channary faced them, and in an instant her calm and gentle demeanour vanished, an aura of hatred and malice contorting her perfect face in odd ways, making her look more like a demon than a human being.

Her burning, smouldering gaze turned to Saito and seemed to pierce gaping holes through his very soul. "Why?" she said slowly, carefully enunciating each syllable.

"I do beg your pardon?"

She sneered. "You know _exactly _what I'm talking about. Why have you gotten into such an," her lips curled in disgust at the ring on Levana's finger, "_intimate _affair with my sister?"

"Your Majesty, if I may—"

She cut him off by taking a step closer and putting a hand on his shoulder, her sharp nails digging into his skin despite the jacket he was wearing, making him wince in pain. "And what about _our _alliance?"

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, we have never agreed on nuptials between ourselves at any point in time." He glared at her, gripping her wrist hard and tearing her hand away from his shoulder. "However, I do still seek to have your name on the treaty of Bremen, and to have a suitable alliance come to fruition, but I cannot—no—I _will_ not marry you."

She wrenched her hand away from his grip, her brown eyes darkening with fury. "You cannot be serious." She let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Are you honestly telling me that you cannot marry me because of _Levana_?!"

"That is precisely what I'm saying." He took a deep, shaking breath, his hands clenched into fists. "I love her, and I can't see why you are so opposed to our relationship. After all, both Earth and Luna would still accept a marriage alliance between us, even if Levana is not the reigning monarch, so you shouldn't concern yourself over this."

Channary scoffed. "You _love_ her."

Saito took one of Levana's hands in his own and squeezed it reassuringly. She looked up at him with wide eyes. "Yes, I do. And I will do anything to protect her."

"Absolutely disgusting." Channary took her sister by the arm and shoved her aside, and had she not regained her footing in the nick of time, Levana would've probably fallen over. "How could you love such a _hideous_ creature?! Don't you know how worthless and pathetic she is?!"

"No, but I do know how much of a cruel, tyrannical _witch_ you are."

Channary's hands balled into fists, trembling with fury. She heard a soft snickering sound behind her and turned to see Levana with a hand over her mouth, trying to fight back laughter fuelled by shock and fear. She sneered and made Levana drop to her knees, and the princess stopped laughing.

"Enough of this nonsense." She got all up in Saito's face like bad breath. "Here is my proposal—you marry me and make me your empress, and I'll let your precious Levana go," Channary smirked at her next words, "_unharmed_."

"No, Saito, don't! I'm not worth it, you know that. Please, just get out of here!"

Channary glared at Levana, her gaze seething. "Silence."

Levana felt her tongue ice over, her jaw going limp.

Saito sneered in disgust, hatred for the wicked queen filling every single inch of his being. "You're despicable," he spat.

Channary stared down at her manicured nails. "That is my only offer. If you choose to deny it, I promise that both you and Levana with suffer greatly for your defiance."

The emperor glanced back nervously at Levana, whose eyes were wide and pleading.

_Don't do it._

Discreetly so that no one noticed his move, he put an arm behind his back, lifting up his jacket with his hand, grasping the small, metal blade that he had strapped on the inside of the material.

Channary crossed her arms over her chest. "So? What's it going to be?"

"Go to hell," he spat before stabbing her square in the shoulder with the pocketknife. Channary shrieked, doubling over in pain. The guard and the thaumaturge rushed to her aid, but they never got the chance to do anything, as Channary pulled a gleaming, silver weapon from underneath her skirt and pulled the trigger.

_BANG!_

Everyone in the room froze, and time seemed to stop for a moment. Saito dropped to the floor, his head oozing blood, his skull half smashed in from where a bullet broke into the bone.

He was most definitely dead the minute he hit the ground.

Levana looked at his corpse and let out a shrill scream.

Channary's arm was held up, smoke still coming from the barrel of the gun that she was holding in her hand. Her lips were twisted in a pained sneer as blood continued to pour from the wound on her shoulder, tears streaming down her face. Levana dropped to her knees and cradled Saito's head in her lap, his blood staining both her gloves and ballgown, waves of sudden grief and despair crashing over her like a tidal wave as she began to sob, hiccuping and choking on her own air.

_(no don__'__t leave me alone my love please no what about me don__'__t leave me here come and save me I love you)_

"Saito, no! Please, wake up!" Levana held up one of his dead hands in her own, her entire body shaking with desperation. "Wake up, WAKE UP! You can't leave me like this! You CAN'T!" she screamed. "Channary..." She lifted her head up, tears running down her pale cheeks, her chest heaving from shock and sadness. "How _could _you?"

Channary's eyes smouldered, her face still contorted in pain, holding a bloody rag to her injured shoulder. "I warned you," she hissed, "that you would pay dearly should you defy me. Now," her lips curled into a pained grin, "you shall suffer the consequences."

_(come crybaby I shall teach you permanent lesson)_

Channary seized Levana's mind and willed her stand up and back away from the emperor's body, but she could feel Levana's resistance, her resolve not to move a muscle, and it irritated her to death. She twisted her brainwaves even more, and she felt the fight weakening.

_Stop resisting me_.

Levana let out a choked sob and rose to her feet, backing away like a soulless machine.

Channary let out a hiss as the pain in her shoulder flared out once again. "Sybil."

The black-haired woman stepped forward. "My Queen?"

"Remove the body and dispose of it. I do not care how you should do so."

Sybil nodded, her hands folded demurely in front of her. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"Also, see to it that the emperor's annoying brother and advisor do not find out about his death, at least until they return to Earth," Channary flashed an evil grin, "we wouldn't need them to cause an unnecessary scene."

Sybil grinned back and lifted the limp corpse over her shoulder, somehow managing to avoid staining her coat with blood, leaving the room silently, the clicking of her heels fading down the hallway.

Channary took a deep breath, and despite the searing pain that was shooting across her shoulder, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Levana, I think an apology is in order."

The princess' eyes widened, appalled. "What?"

"You owe me an apology for being such an insolent _twit_," Channary said in a playful, girlish voice, only slightly rasped with pain, as if she hadn't just killed an innocent man in cold blood.

_(what are you gonna do about it Levana how are you gonna get even oh wait you can__'__t)_

At that single, tilting moment, for the first time in her life, Levana felt a rush of murderous bloodlust, a sudden urge to just _kill _her sister, to put an end to her wicked existence once and for all. She snarled, a primal and guttural sound filled with pure hatred, and spat in Channary's face.

The guard let out a barely audible gasp at Levana's audacity.

Channary wiped the saliva away with her sleeve, a look of disgust smeared across her face. She looked over to the guard, still as emotionless and unfeeling. "Evret, she's all yours."

A dark grin spread across Evret's face, and a chill shook Levana from the inside out.

_(he__'__s the predator you__'__re the prey wait what)_

Channary smirked, sauntering to the room's doorway. "Don't worry, Levana. It only hurts the first time." She closed the door behind her, locking it. Levana's eyes widened, trying to make sense of what her sister meant.

_No._

She wouldn't, she _couldn't_. Even Channary could never do that to her. Could she?

Who was Levana fooling, _of course _she would.

The guard was looking at her in way that made her uncomfortable, his eyes hungrily devouring her slender form. He had a lustful look in his eyes as he stared at her in places she preferred not to be stared at, making her quake with fear. It terrified her, the way he looked at her like she was a piece of meat. She couldn't even bear to think about what he was going to do. She had to get out of there.

_(no this can__'__t be happening please sir get away I don__'__t want this I don__'__t want trouble just no)_

He reached out to grab her, but she reacted first, sending her knee up to his groin, making him double over in pain. She jumped over him and raced to the door, her mind going rampid, terror and panic depriving her of her logic.

Levana beat against the door, pulling at the knob, trying desperately to wrench the thing open. "Channary, PLEASE! I beg of you, anything but this!" she screamed, pounding and pounding until her human fist was surely bruised. She let out a squeak as she felt a strong hand grab her arm and pull her back. She was twirled around and met with the guard's sneering face.

"Get away from me!" Levana shrieked, squirming and writhing, trying evade his grasp.

Evret's frown turned into a playful pout. "Now, Levana, don't be that way. You know that this will be a lot less painful for you if you would stop struggling."

The princess gasped as she felt his hand slither down her waist, getting way too close to her hips, to her legs. To what was between them. She raised a clenched fist, preparing to deliver a blow to his face, but Evret caught it, holding her arm forcefully behind her.

He grinned at her pained expression. "Oh, I always do enjoy a fight, _little princess._ It's just so much more _fun_ that way," he said.

_(I__'__m not little let me go I hate you)_

The guard then backed her against a wall, his nose nearly touching hers. His big hands held her down, trapping her, rendering her helpless, powerless. In her dazed state, the only thing she could do was kick at him, claw at him, shove at him. But he was so strong and she was so feeble—she was outmatched. Rigid with fear and her mind too panicked to even try to glamour him, his lips descended on hers, covering her mouth in a sloppy joining of mouths that could only be an assault, not a kiss. She tried to bite him, but that only excited him more.

"Did you know," he whispered breathlessly in her ear between kisses, "that I've always been watching you? Ever since the day I arrived at the palace, when I was six years old, I've been infatuated with you."

A shiver shook down Levana's spine.

"And now," he swiped her hair from her neck—an intimate gesture that made her feel sick, "I get to _have_ you."

"Don't," she whimpered, trying to pry him off of her. "Please. Don't."

He didn't listen, nor did he care. The monster just continued.

_(gah his touch burns I can feel his hardness it__'__s awful god please no someone save me)_

He bent down, placing his lips on her neck. A primal moan tore its way from his throat as he nibbled her fair skin playfully at first, then harder bites—that if they had come from Saito, she would have liked. The violet sleeves of her gown were slipping off her freckled shoulders, exposing even more skin, the bodice slowly coming off with it.

_(embarrassing so embarrassing I can__'__t stand embarrassing)_

She screamed so loud, like the whole palace was burning down around her, like the world itself was ending. Quick as a viper, Evret's fist connected with her throat, effectively cutting off her airway. Levana gasped and spluttered, her cheeks glistening with tears. A small whimper escaped her lips as his hands ran down her body, gripping her back, her waist, her butt.

Levana closed her eyes to shut out his face and the darkness and her mind removed itself from the present, going to memories of Saito holding her through the night, Saito touching her skin with tenderness, Saito loving her so much that he would escape all the wealth and privilege in the world just to be with her, to liberate her.

_Please let this not be happening._

But it didn't matter how much she prayed, because even if there was a God was out there, he wouldn't have listened. He wouldn't have had mercy on her. No one would.

It happened.

A scream echoed throughout the palace, drowned out by the bright and cheerful music from the ballroom.

That's when the night of horrors began.

She was a prisoner in her own kingdom.


	16. Chapter 15

Levana sat huddled on the tiled floor of the room, whimpering and curled in the fetal position. The guard had left her bruised, naked and humiliated; her auburn hair tangled and sprawled over her shoulders. She still had the silk gloves on her hands, hiding her metal monstrosities, and her beautiful purple gown lay bloodied and torn in the corner.

She shuddered.

It had been the worst day of her life—all her life. She had never felt so disgusting, so _worthless_. He had hurt her, violated her. She didn't even feel_ human_. Pain was flooding through her body, strongest where he had torn her open. She had always been told that it would hurt the first time, but she never imagined that it would feel like _that_. Her throat was raw from screaming, pleading for him to stop, and she was sure that she had bruises on her left wrist from how tightly he was holding it.

_(ah Levana baby you feel so good how can you say no oh god)_

After what seemed like hours, she finally managed to stand up, uncurling from her pathetic ball on the floor. She tried, in vain, to calm herself, taking deep, shaking breaths. Slowly, she started to hobble towards her tattered dress, hissing as she did so, the pain between her legs spiking with each step she took.

_(no please don__'__t it hurts I__'__m bleeding it shouldn__'__t be like this)_

Picking up the remnants of the once-exquisite ballgown, she frowned, taking in the long tear that ran from the edge of the bodice to the hem of the skirt. It was wrinkled and covered in blood, but at least it would cover her up enough for her to get to her room. She grimaced as she slipped the piece of fabric over her bruised body.

Her arms shaking from shock, anger and fear, she wrenched the door open, which the guard had fortunately left unlocked, and left the room. She was in the east wing of the palace, not too far from her own bedroom. Good. That meant that there was less ground to cover, less chance that anyone would see her in her messed up state, with her torn gown and tangled hair and mascara that probably ran down her face from all her crying. Not to mention the countless lovebites that lined her neck and shoulders. The blossoming bruises were tender to the touch and would make Levana wince every time something brushed up against one.

She walked clumsily down the quiet, dark hallways, the shadows projected on the walls casting an eerie feel that made her shiver. The lack of sound or music from the ballroom stated the obvious—that the party was over, even though she had no idea what time it was, how long she had been trapped in that room with _him_. It could've been ten minutes, or it could've been an hour, for all she knew.

As she passed by rows and rows of court portraits depicting previous rulers—her ancestors—she could've sworn that they were watching her, making fun of her. Calling her a disgrace to their bloodline, an accident, something that should've never been born.

_(oh baby you__'__re perfect you feel so good you__'__re so beautiful and you__'__re MINE)_

She paused at a large watercolour painting depicting the royal guard, all men and boys standing side by side, tall and proud, in their official uniforms. She felt like throwing up when her gaze settled on a certain guard in particular, standing above the others, his caramel coloured eyes staring straight and stonily, seeming to pierce through Levana's very soul.

Evret Hayle. Her rapist.

Levana felt a sudden pang of emotion, a horrid dark force that threatened to eat her from the inside out. She felt such hatred towards the guard, so much that it seemed unbelievable. She despised every inch of him, from his haughty grin to his looming stance. She wanted him to suffer, she wanted him dead.

_(that silly little emperor would never go down on you like this you love this just admit it)_

How dare he do this to her, a _princess_? Or to anyone, for that matter? How could anyone hurt and torment someone so much that they take away their virtue, their very soul? How dare that bastard rip away her virginity—against her will—without even a second glance? How dare he use her as an object for sexual pleasure?

More importantly—how could Channary _let _him do it?

Levana stomped down the halls, ignoring the persistent pain, fuming. She didn't even care if the servants or anyone saw her, even though probably looked like a madwoman. She flung open the door to her bedroom and slammed it shut behind her, so hard that she felt the walls shake ever so slightly.

_(baby you__'__re moaning stop screaming you love this you__'__re so hot you__'__re so soft oh god yes)_

She stood in the middle of the room, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her shoulders shaking as she began to sob. Had she not been so proud, she would've probably collapsed to the floor in a bumbling, emotional mess.

Tears ran feely down her cheeks, and her breath came in short, shallow gasps. "It's just...so unfair..." she mumbled to the empty room, reminding her of how truly alone she was.

From the first day, from the first minute, from the first _breath_, it was never fair.

Channary had gotten everything—love, respect, beauty, wealth, safety. Levana had gotten nothing. An empty life void of light and warmth, born and raised in an eternal nightmare. The kind that you can never wake up from.

What did she do to deserve this? Why did everyone hate her so much?

How could anyone be that cruel...

To do something like that—to their own blood. Their own sister. Such a horrendous, unbelievable crime.

It seemed unfathomable. Impossible.

But Channary had done it.

Still sobbing, Levana tore the bloody rag off of her body, letting it fall to the floor. She silently hauled herself on top of her bed and slipped under the covers, the normally heavenly silk doing nothing to comfort her, nothing to appease her. The tears ran freely by that point, and the pain between her legs seemed to grow even stronger. She cringed as she noticed trails of fresh blood still running down her thighs, and, despite the muddled state of her mind, managed to vaguely wonder how she not seen them before.

She buried her face in the pillow and clutched the sheets in her fists, her gloves still on her hands. She found it too wearisome to pull them off.

And as she lay there, motionless, unable to sleep, she could only think of one thing. One haunting, depressing thought that seemed to shroud her in thick darkness.

It was starting to make sense in her mind. She began to understand why her parents, her sister, her _people_ were so heartless. So cruel. So soulless.

_(baby you know you want this)_

It is better not to have a soul, because then, it can't be slowly killed out of you.


	17. Chapter 16

**—****BOOK THREE****—**

_The moon princess sneered. "Did you honestly think that I would just stand by, in the shadows,_

_while everyone else basks in your precious light?"_

* * *

"Levana, please, you haven't been out of bed in over a month! Come on, would you just talk to me?" Akiho begged, looking at the lump under the violet covers that was her best friend.

No answer.

Akiho sighed, resuming her incessant pacing around the room. She had _no _idea what was wrong with Levana. All she remembered from that night was seeing a bloody dress fall to the floor and hearing her sobs that lasted throughout the dark, painful hours. She had tried to strike up conversation, about anything, but Levana wouldn't have it. The only words that she had said in the past month were 'go away'. She rarely ever left her bed, save for the occasional trip to the bathroom, and only when those were absolutely necessary.

"Levana, if you don't come out this instant, then I'm going to make you!" Akiho put her prongs—which were folded into fists—on her hips, a playful authority in her voice.

All she got was a soft groan of protest in return.

Akiho sighed and trudged next to the bed, tapping an arm impatiently on the edge of the metal frame, her sensor flashing. She then gripped the purple comforter in her prong and pulled it off with a flick of her metallic wrist, letting the thick, luxurious fabric pool on the floor beside her.

"Levana. Get. Up. Now."

Levana finally responded, but not in the way Akiho had hoped. Instead of getting out of bed and finally doing something productive, she instead bolted upright, held a pillow to her face, and screamed on the top of her lungs, a shrill noise that nearly shattered the room's glass windows. Akiho flinched back, her sensor flashing erratically, while Levana continued to scream, until her vocal cords felt like they were burning. She let out a choked sob and fell back, burying her head in the pillow.

"Wha..." Akiho shook her bulbous head, dazed. "What was _that_?"

"Please, Akiho...just...leave me alone..." Levana moaned, her voice raspy from her screams, her entire body trembling. Her chest was heaving beneath the silk nightgown she was wearing, the hem of the skirt reaching just above her knees, her feet bare, as for her hands, making her metal limb visible.

The android sighed. "Come on, Levana, you can't just hide in bed until you die! Please, tell me what happened! What about Saito?"

A long pause.

"I don't want to talk about it," Levana sniffed. "And also, I am a _princess_. I can do whatever the hell I want."

"Um...no, you can't..."

Levana turned over, her back facing the android, letting out a grunt of irritation.

"Look. This had gone far enough. If you don't get up and go outside right now to get some fresh air, I'll go and get Channary to kick your butt, for your own good, and I don't care if you're against it."

Levana sat up and glared at her, her auburn curls splayed around in a mess of hair, like a crimson sunset. Her onyx eyes were dull yet sharp, and the bags underneath them were nearly a pitch black, her cheeks red and blotchy from crying and screaming. "Who do you think you—"

She was cut off mid-sentence, however, by a sudden wave of nausea making her dizzy, bile rising in her throat, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. So quick that she nearly ran Akiho over, she jumped off her bed and raced to her bathroom, dropping to her knees in front of the toilet and throwing up, the acid making her throat and mouth burn, tears running down her face.

"Levana, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Akiho sped over and stood beside her, placing a prong on her shoulder, just as Levana was finishing up and wiping her mouth.

The princess whimpered and sat down, wrapping her arms around her chest, sobs wracking her body and making her shiver. "I-I really don't feel good..." she moaned in pain, her stomach still churning. Akiho took her in her arms and Levana clutched onto her, still crying.

"Okay, Levana, that's it." Akiho pulled her shoulders away, looking at her straight in the eyes. "Tell me everything._ What__'__s wrong_?"

Levana hiccuped. "S-Saito...he...he..."

Akiho sensor blinked and her fan whirred as she searched up the emperor for any news at all. "What about him? Speaking of which…why haven't you commed in so long? Have you split?" Akiho asked, her voice wavering.

Levana continued to sob. "No…he's…he's dead; Channary killed him. Because...she wanted to be empress..."

Akiho let out a cry of disbelief, of despair. "Oh, Levana..." she held the princess closer, and despite only being a machine made of metal, Levana wrapped her arms around the android, holding her to her chest.

"But that's not all...Channary let some guard..."

Akiho ran a prong through her messy auburn hair. "What did she let him do?"

"She let him..." Another tear ran down Levana's cheek and she pressed her legs together, "She let him...rape me..." she said, barely above a whisper.

"Rape you?" Akiho's fan whirred as she looked up the word. "Oh, Stars..." She looked down. "Oh my God, Levana..."

The princess let out another sob, her hands clenching into fists. "Yes. So this...maybe I got a disease of some sort..." She looked down at herself. "I think I may have gained a little weight lately..."

Akiho's sensor flashed, her connection to the net database allowing her to search up the symptoms, trying to match them up to a certain illness, until one article popped up that made her tense up. "Um...Levana? I don't think you're sick..."

Levana sniffed. "What?"

Akiho turned to her. "When did you...last have your period?" she asked warily, staring at her with her sensor blank.

Crickets. Crickets with tiny socks on their legs couldn't have been more quiet. Levana paled even more, her face becoming as white as a sheet.

Her period...the last time she had it was two months ago. She was _late_.

She jumped to her feet and ran to the cabinets on the far end of the bathroom, flinging them open and tearing through their contents, pill bottles and bandages and balms falling and rolling around on the floor, until she found what she was looking for—a test needle, that served to detect different diseases and hormones—including those from pregnancy.

She set the needle to detect the 'hCG' hormone, and held her arm out, sticking it into the most visible artery. She paced around the room, chewing the nails of one of her hands, holding the needle against her arm with the other. "No, no, no! You're wrong! It's just a bug, just a bug..."

But the signs were all there. Morning sickness, weight gain, a late cycle. But Levana was not willing to accept the impossible. She wasn't pregnant. No way. _SHE WAS NOT PREGNANT!_

_Beep!_

Levana looked down at the needle, the display showing her the results, her blood running cold and her heart pounding.

_Test results: Positive_

No.

She dropped the needle, her knees suddenly dysfunctional, and she fell to the ground, clutching her skirt in clenched fists. "I'm pregnant..." she mumbled, her eyes wide, her entire body shaking.

Akiho rolled over. "Levana, it's okay—"

"No, this is definitely NOT okay! I'm nineteen and _pregnant_, Akiho." Another choked sob escaped her lips. "What am I going to do?"

"Please, just relax! Getting all upset will only make things worse—"

"No." Levana stood up, not even hearing her. "There's only one thing to do. Only one solution."

"What do you mean?" Akiho recoiled a bit. "What are you going to do about this?"

"The only thing I _can_ do," Levana hiccuped again, "I just can't _live_ like this anymore! No one will listen...no one can hear me..." She took a deep breath. "So I'm silencing myself..._forever_."

Levana went to her closet and pulled on a coat, slipping her feet into a pair of boots, her cheeks soaked in tears. She buttoned up the coat, gazing at the jewelled band on her finger, grief for Saito, the only one who ever loved her, welling up within her and threatening to choke her alive. She kissed it softly before walking over to the door of her bedroom.

"I'm sorry...but this is my only option," she hiccuped. "My only way out." She wrenched the door open, stepping through it, gripping the doorframe with white knuckles. "Goodbye, Akiho."

"No, Levana, don't!" Akiho rolled over as fast as she could her arms held out, but she was too late, as the door slammed in her face. She shrieked, panic flooding through her, an emotion that she didn't even know androids could experience. Her sensor was black, flashing erratically. She couldn't think. She couldn't function.

She had to get help.

The android flung the door open and flew down the halls, as fast as her wheels could take her. She had only one destination in mind: the queen's study. She knew that trying to talk to Channary was like a death warrant, but she was too desperate.

She screeched to a halt in front of the sleek doors to the study, her metal prong grasping the handle. However, just as she was about to pull the door open, she froze as a sudden realization hit her.

What was she _thinking_? How did she even know that Channary would listen to her? That she would even care? After what she had already done to Levana?

She wouldn't.

But if she didn't go to Channary, who could she go to? There was no one else in that part of the palace.

Unless...

She turned around at the sound of clinking weapons coming from the training studio down the hall, and she prayed that there was someone in there who would listen...who would help.

Help her save her best friend.

* * *

Levana shivered as she stood on the edge of the palace's roof, the cold wind blowing through her messy locks, her tails of her coat whipping around her legs. She peered down the edge and nearly took a step back, almost afraid. It had to be at least a fifty foot drop, with the outside walls of the palace jagged and sharp, huge rocks protruding out of the Artemisia lake's crystalline waters, and Levana stared down at her death below.

_(so cold so deep I__'__m going to die here and it__'__s going to be okay relax you want this you__'__ve wanted this for forever)_

She let out another sob, completely devastated.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, Saito! You were right, about everything. Please forgive me!" she cried out, her hands shaking from the cold. Looking down at her flat stomach, she rubbed it gently, more tears running down her face.

"I'm sorry, my little one. I'm sorry you will never live to see the earth above, but I promise…it's better this way," she whispered before standing up, looking down at the rippling waves of the lake below. As she said one final prayer, she stepped forward, and jumped into oblivion.

The fall was like an out-of-body experience, time seeming to have screeched to a halt, and she felt something tearing at her side, sharp pain flooding through her, but she was too far gone to feel it. Her hair floated in a halo of red around her, her hands limp and hovering. What little breath she had left her as she hit the water, the brute force giving her whiplash. The freezing cold made her body seize. She couldn't do anything but sink lower into the water, her lips parted and letting water in, drowning her. But she didn't care.

_(no more never again I__'__ll never be hurt again I__'__ll be okay I__'__ll be dead)_

Most people would be afraid of death, would be panicking, struggling to rise back up to the surface, but Levana welcomed it with open arms, and couldn't help but feel relieved. Finally, her suffering was over. It was finally the end.

_Please let me not wake again, ever._


	18. Chapter 17

"So. I see you're a shell. That has broken the law." Sybil's eyes flashed as she spoke to the dummy resting in front of her, fists raised, body poised for attack. "Well, let me deliver you a bit of _justice_, then!" she roared as she surged forward and delivered a round of falcon punches to it's face, finishing it off with a kick to the stomach, making the dummy fall over, limp.

Sybil smiled and crossed her arms over her chest. "Dummy K.O. by Sybil Mira..." She stood tall. "And the crowd goes _wild_!" She leaped up with her hands in the air, imitating the roaring cheers of an audience. She looked over to the dummy, which hadn't moved an inch, frowning. "Oh, so you want more, huh? You haven't learned your lesson yet?" She pulled out a loaded handgun and turned off the safety, pointing at the dummy, hand on the trigger.

"Sybil! Thank goodness!" a squeaky, metallic voice echoed throughout the room, making Sybil jump back a bit and pull out the gun's magazine as quick as lightning. Her head snapped around at breakneck speed, her dark eyes widening as she took in Akiho's sudden appearance. She put her gun down and stepped away from the dummy.

"Hey..." She cocked her head to the side. "Aren't you Levana's android?"

"Please...I need...help..." Akiho breathed, her arms flailing around.

"Okay, slow down. What's going on? Why do you need help?"

"It's Levana!" Akiho whimpered, "I think she's trying to..."

Sybil got down on her knees, matching Akiho's height. "Trying to what?"

"I think..." she took a deep breath, "I think she's about to kill herself!"

Sybil's face paled. "What?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah. She s-said," The android hiccuped, "that she was going to..._silence_ herself, and that it was her only way out..."

Sybil's brow creased in confusion. "Only way—"

"Please, Sybil! You have to help me! We have to save her!" Akiho cut her off, her voice frantic with desperation.

"Okay, okay! Please, calm yourself, take a deep breath—you're going to overheat," Sybil put a hand on Akiho's shoulder. The android complied, and Sybil stood. "Did she say how she was going to kill herself?"

"No..." Akiho trembled. "But she put on a coat and boots, so I'm assuming that she went outside..."

Sybil paled. "She's going to jump from the rooftop."

"How do you know?" Akiho asked warily.

"Because, it's a very effective method of execution..." Sybil said, clearing her throat. "And I'm quite sure that she'll jump from the highest tower...it's the deadliest fall."

Akiho took Sybil's hand in her prong and raced out if the room, Sybil nearly stumbling behind her. "Well, come on! Let's go! We have to hurry!"

"Okay, okay! I'm coming!" she exclaimed as the android continued to pull her down. Akiho seemed to go even faster, and Sybil wrenched her hand away from her grip, running alongside her.

A few minutes later, they emerged from the top of the winding stairwell that led up to the roof of the palace's highest tower, the cold air making Sybil shiver—for her white t-shirt, training shoes and cargo pants were all she was wearing.

She walked up to the edge, Akiho following nervously behind her, sensor flashing. "Oh no, she's not here...she must have already jumped..." The android whimpered, Sybil turning her head and putting a finger to her lips, shushing her.

The thaumaturge got down on her knees and peered over the ledge, gripping the tiled roof in clenched fists so that she didn't fall herself.

What she saw baffled her.

It all seemed so peaceful, so normal. There wasn't a ripple in the crystalline water, and Sybil would have just thought that the android was spouting nonsense, if it weren't for the vivid, crimson cloud that rose up to the surface, giving the lake a reddish tint. She shivered and put a hand to her mouth, her eyes watering.

Flicks of her feet and off were her shoes. She stood on the edge of the roof, the wind making her raven hair fly around, taking a deep breath.

"Akiko, meet me—"

"It's _Akiho,_" the android corrected her.

Sybil waved a hand, scrunching her nose. "Whatever. Just meet me down by the shore at ground level, and bring back some maids or guards with you. I'll need all the help I can get."

She then leaped off the roof and dove into the cold lake, landing with a huge _splash_.

As soon as her body hit the water, the icy cold made her tense, and she let out a gasp, air bubbles escaping her lips and freezing liquid running down her throat. She clasped a hand over her mouth and breached the surface, taking in as much air as her lungs could hold, before diving back in, holding her breath. She looked around, her vision glossed over from the water around her. After a moment, she started to swim towards a trail of red that stuck out in the vast emptiness, leading her to a figure floating below, hands held out limp and auburn curls flying everywhere, blood pouring from a wound on her side.

Sybil kicked as hard as she could, grasping Levana's hand in her own and pulling up her limp body. She brought the unconscious princess to her chest before turning back and swimming towards the surface. Her arms and legs strained against the weight of the body she held at her side, the current getting stronger, and the cold not doing anything to help. Sybil paused, closing her eyes. With a swift kick, she surged up to the light penetrating the water, breaching the surface like a whale, taking a long, deep breath of much needed oxygen.

She paddled frantically to the shore, that thankfully wasn't too far, and hauled herself on top of it, laying Levana down on her side. She got on her knees and brushed her hair back, wiping some water from her brow; she was soaked to the bone and absolutely freezing.

She put a hand to Levana's forehead and took her wrist in her hand, running her thumb over an artery, checking for a pulse. She let out a sigh of relief as she felt it. It was slow and weak, but it was still there. She was alive. Sybil tore the wet coat from her body and cringed at the blood still pouring from her side, a long gash running down the length of her chest, cutting deep; right to the bone. She could see her ribcage through the torn flesh.

Barely holding back a gag, she put an ear to Levana's mouth, checking for breathing, and when it wasn't there, she balled up a hand into a fist and pressed it down over her chest, pressing down—one, two, three, until Levana sat up and coughed, water spluttering from her mouth. She fell back, still unconscious, but at least her airway was clear. Her chest was rising and falling and her heart was beating.

Satisfied, Sybil rolled her over into the recovery position, rubbing her back soothingly, until she heard approaching footsteps. Three maids and a guard came running over, Akiho leading them. They all gasped at the sight of the princess, bleeding and unconscious, with Sybil soaked and shivering. One of the maids came over with a blanket, wrapping it around Levana.

"Oh, you poor dear..." she said as she picked her up, cradling her in her arms without much difficulty. Levana was quite light.

"She'll...be alright..." Sybil gasped between shivers. "She needs...to go to the hospital...though..."

The guard nodded. "Of course. Thank you, Thaumaturge Mira." He wrapped an arm around her. "Come, we'll get you warm."

Sybil, who would've normally pushed anyone away, just nodded and walked with him, teeth chattering.

* * *

"Idiot..." Channary grumbled as she strode down the halls, two guards escorting her. "I can't believe that she would do something so reckless and stupid." She shook her head, the guards nodding, as if they agreed. The hallways turned from lavish to sterile as they trudged on further.

Once the queen and her entourage arrived at the hospital ward, one guard came over and opened the door for her. Channary breezed past him, paying him no mind whatsoever.

"You're welcome," he grumbled.

The queen ignored the guard and stormed down the halls until she reached her destination—Dr. Sage Darnel's office. He had called her over for an immediate appointment, to give the verdict on Levana's condition, and Channary, instead of feeling worried or afraid for her younger sister, just felt extremely annoyed. To think that she had to miss an important concert for this...

"Your Majesty." A passing nurse bowed her head, and Channary lowered hers slightly in return.

Just as she reached to knock on the metal door, it flung open, revealing Dr. Darnel, in his usual garb of light blue and a lab coat. His blonde hair was immaculate and his baby blue eyes bright behind rimmed spectacles, holding a clipboard against his chest with one arm.

"My Queen," he said respectfully as Channary held her hand out, and he took it in his free one and placed a light kiss on her knuckles.

"My dear Dr. Darnel..." she hummed, her voice thrumming along his spine. "I thank you so very much for your assistance in this matter. Do you have the reports? I am quite concerned for my sister's welfare," she lied, but the doctor didn't pick up on it.

He nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty. Please, come in, and make yourself comfortable." He bowed, holding an arm out, and Channary walked past him, perching herself delicately upon a chair that faced the opposite side of his desk. He followed, sitting in his own wheeled chair.

One of the guards peered through the door. "Your Majesty? Should we—"

"No, Reed, we would like some privacy. Keep your stations outside." She waved a careless hand.

The guard nodded. "Of course, My Queen," he said before closing the door.

Channary turned her head to the doctor. "So? What's the damage?"

"Well..." Dr. Darnel pulled up a file on the desk's netscreen, skimming through it, his fingers tapping on the desk. "Her Highness is currently in surgery for a deep gash running down the side of her chest. She'll need stitches, but luckily, no organs have been severely damaged, and she also has a few broken ribs. She has a severe concussion and went into shock as soon as she was taken to the hospital, but she should come through without any mental damage or paralysis, if only a bit of trauma."

The queen nodded. "That's quite the list."

"She is a very lucky girl. She fared quite well, considering the height of the drop and the sharp rocks in the water, for the time that she went without oxygen. Not to mention the temperature."

Channary rested her cheek on her knuckles, bored. "When will she be released?"

Dr. Darnel pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "We estimate in about three days, Your Majesty, but she'll have to be closely monitored for the next nine months."

"Nine months?" Channary lifted her head, her brow furrowed. "I highly doubt that it would take nine months for her to heal from those injuries."

The doctor cleared his throat. "Well...there is one other thing."

"And what is that?" Channary deadpanned, raising an eyebrow.

A moment's silence, save for the doctor taking a deep breath.

"Princess Levana is four weeks pregnant." He fidgeted in his seat, bracing himself for his queen's reaction.

The look on Channary's face was priceless. "What." She blinked, eyes wide, teeth clenched.

"Yes..." Dr. Darnel ran a hand through his hair. "Your Majesty, when we ran the first X-ray, we found a live embryo in the uterus, perfectly healthy, its heart beating and strong. It's a bit of a miracle, that it was able to survive such a fall, but...it's there." He chuckled softly, but caught himself as he noticed that Channary was anything but amused.

"Pregnant..." She rubbed her temples, feeling a migraine coming on. Great. She had a meeting in just a couple of hours, and her head felt like it was exploding. She would have to ask the doctor for some ibuprofen of something.

Her hand clenched into a fist. She cursed Evret in her mind. That _idiot_ had gotten her sister pregnant! Had she not told him to use protection? Well, she didn't really say anything...but come on...he should have just used his head! The _right_ one!

"Can you get rid of it?" She peered up at him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"What?"

"Can you abort the..." Channary's lips curled in disgust, "_thing_?"

Dr. Darnel took a deep breath. "Well, technically, we could. However, I'm afraid that we're not allowed to do such an operation at this time."

"Not allowed? I'm the queen! I'm telling you to do it!"

"We cannot proceed without Levana's consent," he answered bluntly.

Chananry glared at him, tilting her head. "What did you say?"

"We cannot—no—we _will_ not abort the baby without the mother's full consent." The doctor crossed his arms over his chest, a hint of authority in his tone. Channary's fury clawed at her spine, desperate to be unleashed.

Suddenly, as quickly as it appeared, her anger vanished, as an idea popped up in her head. Calm flooded through her body as her lips curled into a coy smile.

She found it. A solution.

Lately, the Lunar court had been pestering the queen about the matter of heirs, and why she didn't yet have one. It was quite a touchy subject for Channary. A few years ago, she had discovered a very humiliating secret. One that she hoped to never have to reveal to anyone, only a few doctors ever knowing. One that had caused her immense pain, and had made her lose any ability to love that she might've once had.

She was incapable of having children. Infertile. The doctors said that it was a genetic disorder, one that had been passed on for centuries, but had obviously skipped her parents' generation. She had no problem with actual conception, but the disorder made it so that the egg couldn't latch onto the uterine wall, inevitably making it die. If she ever wanted to have children of her own, it would either have to be in-vitro or with a surrogate mother, but both options required informing more people of her..._condition_, so neither was feasible.

But Levana's child...

She could easily have the birth certificates destroyed and replaced with ones that said exactly what she wanted them to. Only genetic testing could prove the child's real parents, and she would make it so that none of her people would ever suspect a thing, and she planned to dispose of Levana eventually.

Yes. That's what she would do.

She would take the child from Levana. Her little niece or nephew would become her own.

Her heir.

* * *

Levana awoke the next day to the sound of sharp beeping, and she groaned as she opened her sticky eyelids, a bright light nearly blinding her. She blinked repeatedly, her mind a complete haze. She didn't understand. What had happened? Was she dead? Was this...heaven's light? She let out a moan and closed her eyes, waiting for the beeping to stop, and for something, _anything_ to happen.

When nothing did, she opened her eyes again, her brow furrowed. Weren't there supposed to be other dead people in heaven? Or angels? The light and noise was all there was, and she narrowed her eyes until her vision cleared. She could make out the white tiles of the ceiling, and of cream walls around her. The air smelled of chemicals and sterile medicine, and she put a shaking hand to her face, feeling the plastic tubes that ran up her nose, frowning before gripping them, attempting to pull them out.

"I wouldn't touch those if I were you."

She froze, her fingers only pulling the air tubes out a fraction before her hand fell back to her side, and she struggled to turn her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of who had spoken. The princess took a deep breath and propped her elbows up, righting herself, attempting to get into a seated position. She cried out as a sharp pain flooded through her side, and she fell back, stopped by a warm hand that kept her from slamming down on the pillow. She looked up to see a familiar face propping her up, placing pillows behind her back, allowing her to sit up.

"S-Sybil?" Levana narrowed her eyes, her voice raspy.

"Hello, Princess. It's good to see you awake," the thaumaturge said calmly as she stood over her, hands clasped behind her back. "That's quite a fall you endured there. Cut up your side, a few broken ribs, and a nice concussion."

Levana looked down at the pristine white sheets. "I didn't fall; I jumped," she murmured.

"Yes. I know," Sybil sighed, and she sat down in a nearby chair. "I'm the one who saved you." She frowned. "Levana, why would you do such a thing?"

Levana didn't answer, her gaze dark and brooding as she gripped the sheets in clenched fists.

"Do you need to talk to someone?" Sybil held a hand out, placing it on the princess' shoulder.

Levana's head shot up, her glare setting upon Sybil. "No. And I definitely won't talk to _you_." She spat, swatting Sybil's hand away.

"Levana, people don't kill themselves just because—"

"Why did you even save me, anyway?" Levana cut her off. "It's not like I mean anything to you. I'm worthless, remember? A _freak_," she spat, quoting Sybil from their first encounter. Sybil had the decency to look hurt, and Levana just rolled her eyes. "How did you even know?"

"Your android friend came to me in quite a panic." Sybil stared at her nails. "She interrupted my training to tell me that you were foolishly trying to kill yourself."

Levana's fist clenched. Akiho. Of course. "I wasn't being foolish," she grumbled.

"Is this about the emperor?" Sybil inquired, raising a slender eyebrow. The question caught Levana off guard, and she didn't say anything. Sybil's gaze softened when she noticed silent tears running down her cheeks, and she once again felt that dreaded pang in her gut.

How she hated it, her guilt. It made even the strongest and most powerful act like complete saps.

"Hey..." She put a hand to Levana's cheek, wiping away her tears. "Don't cry...it's going to be okay. You'll be alright."

Levana sniffed and looked up to her. "Why are you doing this?"

Sybil took a deep breath. "Honestly, I don't know." She rose to her feet and walked over to the door. "I guess it's because...well...I know how it feels."

"What?"

Sybil stopped, clutching the frame of the doorway, her knuckles turning white. "Look, I know that you hate me, and you have every reason to, but I just thought you should know that I don't agree with what Channary did." Her back was facing Levana, and she was quite visibly trembling. "Saito was innocent. What she did was evil." She turned her head to look at the princess. "It was despicable."

Levana blinked, her chest slowly rising and falling with each breath.

"Hang in there, Princess. Things will get better." Sybil opened the door and stepped out. "I know what you're going through. I know how it feels to hit rock bottom." She turned around and threw Levana one last sympathetic look. "I'm rooting for you."

She then closed the door, and Levana stayed there, frozen, until the click of Sybil's heels faded off in the distance.


	19. Chapter 18

Expectations.

Sybil knew of how wearisome those could be, more than anyone else. She could never really live up to her parents' expectations. They were already set so high, by the time she was born, preceded by three older brothers, the baby of the family. She had been nothing more than an accident, a hiccup of fate, an unplanned pregnancy. The youngest son was already fourteen by the time she came along, and was busy with his own life—not caring at all about his new sister, a drooling baby not worth his time or attention.

Markus, the eldest brother, was the head of Luna's top manufacturing enterprise, making him one of the richest and most successful men in the country. He was extremely gifted in the art of business, taking after their tycoon father. He was almost never present in the mansion that the the Mira family called home, living with his wife, an accomplished pianist, near the company headquarters, in Dianan.

Aaron was the middle child and the pride of the Mira family. He was one of the smartest people alive, head scientist and doctor for the monarchy, and Artemisia as a whole. At the age of thirteen he had discovered a cure for rabies, which was quickly spreading all around Luna and threatening the animal population. The previously incurable virus was eradicated thanks to his genius, saving the kingdom from a devastating plague.

Nathaniel, or Nathan, as he preferred, was an inventor, his mind always running twice as fast as the norm, coming up with new ideas left and right. His massive bedroom wall was plastered with nothing but sketches and blueprints—Sybil had often sneaked into his room when he was out simply to admire his creativity, enchanted by his complicated thoughts. Her brother had never wanted anything to do with her, even going as far as treating her as if she were invisible, ignoring her whenever she spoke and just passing by without a second glance. The one time he actually caught her in his room, she couldn't hold anything in her right hand for a week, after he slammed a vase down on it in a fit of anger. A permanent lesson, he said it was.

She didn't like him very much after that.

Her parents weren't much better, always too busy to spend time with her. Her father, the wealthy and successful Josef Mira, tried to make up for this by lavishing every imaginable luxury on his only daughter, from netscreens to exotic pets and even her own ski hill, with artificial snow, of course. All Sybil had to do was ask and he would give her anything she desired—except the one thing she really wanted...

His time.

As a child, Sybil was always alone. Her brothers didn't want anything to do with her and her father would be busy working, her mother off doing whatever it was that she did. There were only so many things one could do with animals, and the servants of the mansion weren't allowed to talk to her, leaving her with no one but herself. She had a few friends around the city, but she seldom saw them, busy with their own lives, or they just lived too far away.

All that time alone gave Sybil ample opportunities to refine her talents, and although her brothers were all smarter and more sophisticated than her, she was still superior to them in one way—her glamour was much stronger than their own. Sybil would spend countless days practicing on her pets, and her gift didn't go unnoticed by her teachers. She had the most powerful glamour of all the students at her school, able to control even the most experienced professor. She had been ten at the time. The school's faculty was so impressed that they called in a royal thaumaturge to evaluate her, and Sybil made her drop to the ground the minute she stepped in the classroom, earning her a good amount of praise from the students, teachers and even the thaumaturge herself.

She was immediately recruited in the thaumaturge training program, put in the top ranks, and had even been invited to live at the Artemisia palace, working closely with the royal family. She ran through the mansion that day, with her official application letter in hand, so excited that she nearly broke her mother's prized cello, knocking it off the wall. That letter, that piece of paper, meant everything in the world to her.

Finally, she wasn't just a burden, a mistake. She was useful, and she could bring her family great honour and recognition with her gift.

Sybil had expected a celebration, her parents congratulating her, and her brothers being impressed and proud to call her their sister. She wanted to show them what she could do, and she wanted them to tell her how great of a thaumaturge she could be.

Instead, all she got was the cold shoulder from both of her parents, and nothing from Markus, for he wasn't there, like always. Aaron was—well—_Aaron_, always in his own head, in his lab, tinkering with his experiments and his newest research. When Sybil had told him, he simply shrugged and said _that's nice_.

Nathan, being the sensible and supportive brother that he was, had _laughed_ at her.

On that particular day, he was busy playing video games with his two friends, a game called 'Zero Gravity' on the net-pod, in which they went about conquering planets and killing off aliens.

She had never really liked that game.

"Hey, Nathan! I have something really important to show you!" An overjoyed Sybil exclaimed as she ran into the room, waving her application letter about. The three boys froze and Nathan let out a groan of frustration, pressing the pause button. The screen skid to a halt and he turned around, a scowl on his face. "What do you want, Pest?" He crossed his arms over his chest, his foot tapping impatiently on the floor.

"Look at this! They've asked _me_ to become a thaumaturge! Can you believe it?!" she squealed, clutching the folded letter in one hand, bouncing around with glee. "And it gets even better! They've invited me to live at the _palace_. With the royal family!" She clapped her hands together.

Nathan took the letter from her and skimmed through it, blinking once.

"Well?" Sybil rocked back on her heels. "What do you think?"

A moment of silence, until Nathan let out a snort, that before long had turned into howling laughter. "You think that _this _is an accomplishment?" he said between chuckles, his friends soon joining in. "You've hardly done anything worth mentioning! Do you even know what a thaumaturge is?"

Sybil frowned, puffing up her chest. "Yes, I do. They are the most important and revered servants to the crown," she stated proudly.

Nathan rolled his eyes. "That's what they _say, _Sybil, to keep face. Everyone knows that all they really are is a bunch of lackeys to Their Majesties, chosen for their gifts, something totally out of their control. It's something that you're born with, that you don't work towards, so being recruited because of it doesn't bring much honour." He grinned. "That's why you were chosen. Because all you've got is the gift, and nothing else—much less a backbone."

Sybil blinked, tears pooling in her eyes. "That's not true..." she whispered, biting her lower lip.

Nathan tossed the letter back to her, all crumpled, and Sybil caught it, hugging it to her chest. "It is, and you know it," he sneered. "Now go. As you can see, we're busy." He waved a careless hand, turning away from her and pressing a button on the console, the screen springing back to life. Without a second glance, Nathan and his friends got back into their game, and Sybil left the room without another sound, closing the door softly behind her.

She wiped her tears away with her free hand, scurrying down the hallway. "Whatever," she spat between sobs. "I don't need Nathan. I don't need any of them," she muttered to herself.

And she meant it.

Sybil accepted the invitation right away, and her parents left her behind at the palace without hesitation, not even saying goodbye. She remembered walking through the ominous gates, her head held high, although inside, she was drowning in her own fear and insecurities. What if she wasn't good enough? What if Their Majesties decided to send her back? She couldn't bear to imagine coming back home, rejected as a thaumaturge, to await Nathan's ridicule.

She could never let that happen.

She was welcomed graciously in palace, housed with all the other thaumaturges-in-training, fifty or so children, all with outstanding glamours, just like her. For the first time in her life, she felt accepted, and she made many friends, all the others showing her nothing but admiration and respect. She trained strong and hard; it didn't take long for her trainers to notice her exceptional power and determination, higher than the oldest recruits, and even some of the lower ranking thaumaturges.

And then there was that one day, that seemed like the best of her life.

It had been a normal training day, and her pod was running a drill on law enforcement when they had received a very special guest—His Majesty, King Marrok himself. All the children had looks of disbelief on their faces as they fell to their knees, none of them having ever met their ruler in person. Sybil could still remember the envy and respect radiating off of them as she was called up personally, walking over to the king timidly, dipping into a curtsey.

"Your Majesty," she said, her voice ringing loud and clear.

The king smiled. "Sybil Mira." He nodded, hands clasped behind his back. "I've heard many good things about you from my assistant thaumaturges. You're quite the accomplished young lady." Sybil blushed slightly at that. "I hope you don't disappoint me."

"What do you mean, My King?" She righted herself, head cocked to the side.

"In order to move up higher in the ranks, you must have hands-on experience with serving the royal family, so you'll be working quite closely with us, and you'll be given quarters in the royal apartments. That is, if you want to, of course. You'd be starting this afternoon." His gaze softened. "My daughters could use your companionship."

"What?!" she gasped. Turning around, her gaze set on her comrades, most of whom looked angry, with their arms crossed over their chests, yet a few smiling with encouragement, seeming to prod her forward. She looked over to one boy in particular—Aimery Park, her closest friend. He was grinning from ear to ear, and when she raised her eyebrows, he nodded frantically.

_Go for it_.

Sybil turned back to face the king, a glowing smile on her face. "How could I refuse, Your Majesty?"

"I was hoping you'd say that." He turned to a couple guards in his entourage and they came forward. "Malik, Leif, please escort Miss Mira to get her things, and have her brought to the main hall within half an hour."

The two guards nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty." Malik turned to Sybil and beckoned her forward. "Come, Milady. We shall take you to your new quarters."

Sybil blushed slightly at the new title. Leif lead her out the door, Malik following, and they left the training room, heading to the dorms. They gave Sybil five minutes to pack up, and she stuffed everything she owned in a suitcase, changing from her training clothes to the finest dress that she brought along to the palace—a navy blue number with long sleeves and just a bit of ruffling on the hem. She kept her steel dog tag necklace, finding that it gave her outfit style and flair. After all, it _was_ her new identity.

The guards—her new entourage, she discovered—lead her down the winding halls and up two floors to a much nicer, much fancier part of the palace, with marble statues and clear glass ceilings. It was much more lavish than the training floor on which she had resided for the past three months, and only got more so as they made their way further. Malik and Leif escorted her to the main hall, where Their Majesties were waiting. Sybil felt gracious of the treatment she was receiving.

She had never been escorted before, and she wondered if that's how it felt to be a princess, everyone always looking out for you.

Malik pushed the door open for her while Leif went off with her suitcase, to put it in her new room. Sybil stepped through the doorway and gasped in awe at the room she had just entered. Although it was really nice and fancy back home, the mansion couldn't even compare to the luxurious architecture of the Artemisia Palace. She bowed curtly, knowing that the king and queen were present, but as she righted herself, she was surprised to see a girl of about twelve standing before her. She was beautiful, unbelievably so—the most aesthetically perfect human being she had ever seen. Sybil flushed, recognizing the girl, and she dipped once again into a graceful curtsey.

Standing before her was Her Highness, Crown Princess Channary.

"Princess," Sybil addressed her respectfully, coming up from her curtsey.

Channary lilted her head, seeming to analyze her. After a moment, the princess held out her hand and Sybil shook it eagerly. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Sybil," she said sweetly.

"Likewise." Sybil looked around. "Um...pardon my asking, but where is your sister?"

Channary's brow furrowed for a moment, before her eyes widened. She held a finger out, curling it, beckoning Sybil forward. She complied, coming to stand right next to the princess.

"Do not address you-know-who by her name when speaking to me," Channary whispered in her ear. "Trust me—she's nothing a freak. She's so weird." Sybil was about to interject, but the princess continued on. "You'll soon find out why. She isn't even deserving of your respect, to be called 'Your Highness'," Channary spat before pulling away, standing tall, her hands clasped in front of her. "She'll be here in moment," she added, out loud this time.

Sure enough, before long, the double doors opened and a maid came in, escorting a young girl. Sybil stood taller, keeping Channary's warning in mind, and she eyed Levana with scrutiny. It was nearly pathetic, the way she seemed to cling onto the maid's hand, as if for dear life, her auburn hair covering her shoulders, and how she seemed to be hiding beneath it.

As the king spoke to her, she looked up to Sybil, her onyx eyes dark and mistrusting. Sybil frowned a bit. What was _her_ problem? She felt a pang of annoyance, and she didn't really care if Levana was a princess; she hadn't even spoken to her, so why was she giving her the evil eye?

Once Their Majesties had left, Levana had offered her hand, Channary narrowing her eyes, as if warning Sybil against her. The girl came forward anyway, willing to give Levana the benefit of the doubt—until her glove slipped off, revealing her metal hand, her cyborg nature. Sybil had recoiled, disgusted, remembering what her parents had always told her about them, that they were hideous, purely artificial creatures that were _not_ to be trusted. At that moment, she had understood what Channary had meant when she called her a freak.

Because of this, and because she wanted to stay in Channary's good graces, she went along with whatever the princess told her to do, and all the cruel pranks they would play on Levana. If she was completely honest with herself, she actually enjoyed it, the thrill of being able to have power over someone else, but the novelty lasted for about a week, once Sybil had finally seen how truly twisted Channary was. Playing jokes and picking on Levana was one thing, but the thing with Letumosis...poisoning Levana's birthday cake...

She had gone too far.

She knew it was a bad idea from the start, but she went against her better judgement, tuning out her conscience; she was so desperate for acceptance that she went along anyway. It was actually quite a rush, sneaking into royal kitchens and playing lookout while Channary did her thing. It even seemed like it'd be entertaining, until the symptoms showed up, and she saw how much pain Levana was in. Because of her.

It didn't matter if she was a cyborg, a freak, different. The poor girl had done nothing to deserve it.

When they had visited her in the hospital the next day, Channary had just taken the opportunity to taunt and make fun of Levana over the room's microphone, and Sybil was flooded with sadness as she watched Levana curl into a ball, holding a pillow in her face while letting out whimpers of pain, trying to block Channary out. Once the princess had grown bored of torturing her sister, she left Sybil alone, and the girl started to cry, holding a hand to the glass.

"I'm so sorry..." she mumbled, her eyes shut. She pressed her forehead against the glass, Levana not even moving.

Sybil sniffed once, before getting up and leaving the room, lest she broke down completely. She retired for the day, and spent hours sobbing uncontrollably, lying on her bed, a pillow pressed to her face.

She had never felt so evil, so monstrous.

Levana wasn't the real freak, the real monster. It was her. How could have done such a thing to another human being, especially one who had never done anything to her? Why had she been so eager to listen to Channary, to do anything to stay on her good side?

Nathan's words had finally started to make sense. To her horror, she realized that he was right. She was nothing but a lackey. Being a thaumaturge wouldn't bring her or her family honour—but would only destroy her otherwise good name. She gripped her necklace in a clenched fist, the dogtags—because that's all she was; Channary's dog. Be good to her master, and she'll be rewarded.

Sybil now knew why the real reason she was chosen. She was a bad person. No one decent ever got that much power on Luna. It just didn't happen.

She was the worthless one...not Levana.

That night, she was the first person who had ever cried for the youngest princess of Luna.


	20. Chapter 19

"Her Highness is ready to see you now, My Queen." The nurse at the front desk addressed Channary with a respectful dip of her head.

"Thank you," the queen responded. "Which room is she in?"

"Number twenty-three."

Channary stood from her chair in the waiting room and floated down the halls, the flowy skirt of her mint green dress billowing around her like a sail. Once she arrived at the metal door engraved with a '23', she pushed it open and stepped through, closing it softly behind her.

Her gaze wandered around the bland, sterile room, with its white walls and steel furniture. She turned to look at the bed, where Levana sat propped up against a couple pillows, wearing nothing but a paper-thin hospital gown and a white tag around her wrist, stamped with her name and other important credentials. Her auburn hair was tied back into a sloppy ponytail, and she looked sickly—pale, clammy and doped up on drugs. She was plucking at a foam cup that she held in her shaking hands, staring at it as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Hello, Levana," Channary called out to her sister, who only continued to pick off pieces of styrofoam, blinking once. The queen grit her teeth, her nostrils flared. "Levana, I'm _talking_ to you."

Levana rolled her eyes before looking up. "Whatever do you need, my illustrious, beautiful, most _generous _Queen?" she said sarcastically, holding her hands out in mock adoration. She then looked down at the sheets, oblivious to her approaching sister, who stopped before her with her hand raised, palm flat.

A sharp crack resounded through the room as Channary slapped her across the face, hard. Levana's head snapped back, and she winced, holding a hand to her cheek branded with a red handprint. The cup fell from her grip and dropped to the floor, rolling away. "I have no patience for your insolent games," Channary spat, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her roughly. "You will speak to me with proper respect. Do I make myself clear?" She let go and pulled away, her lips twisted into a sneer.

"_Transparently_," Levana grumbled, rubbing her sore cheek.

Channary shook her head, pulling a chair up against the bed and perching herself delicately upon it, crossing her legs so that a slit in her silk dress revealed her pale skin. "I am not happy with you," she spoke after a moment, her voice syrupy with an edge of steel. "Acting so foolishly, being so rash—this is what I mean when I call you a disgrace."

"If you just came here to judge and mock me, you can leave. I've had enough of that already," Levana grumbled, bunching the white sheets in her fists. Channary's eyes narrowed, and Levana tensed up, knowing exactly what that meant: be careful of what you say.

"Why did you jump?"

It took Levana a moment to snap out of her daze. "What?"

"Why did you jump from the rooftop? Why did you try to kill yourself?"

Levana stared at her in disbelief. "You seriously don't know? I could've sworn you were much more observant than that, Channary. Wrong assessment of your capabilities on my part, I guess." She shrugged, hugging her chest.

"I will ignore the rudeness of that statement." The queen sighed. "So. It appears that you're pregnant." Channary spat out the last word with contempt, crossing her arms over her chest. "Would you care to tell me how that happened?"

"You had me _raped_," Levana spat. She looked at her in a 'duh' kind of way, as if Channary were mentally retarded.

"Hmmm..." Channary put a finger to her lips, her gaze wandering around the room, as if she were searching for the memory deep within the recesses of her mind. "Ah yes, now I remember!" she exclaimed, a grin spreading across her face. She said it like she had just remembered what she had for dinner the night before, not how she had her own sister sexually assaulted. Levana knew that she was playing dumb just to annoy her—and it worked.

"I hope you didn't use too many of your _precious_ brain cells to remember that far back," Levana said, her voice at its snarky best. "God knows there aren't too many up there."

Channary grabbed Levana's chin, her fingernails digging into her skin. She raised her hand as if to strike her again, and Levana flinched back. "Do you want another one?" the queen threatened, her eyes blazing.

"No! No, I don't!" Levana squeaked, shaking her head, trying to loosen Channary's grip.

Channary sighed and released her, rolling her eyes. "You really are a piece of work." She turned back to look at her sister. "Is there something else that you require? Water, or painkillers, perhaps?"

Levana stared down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. "I want an abortion," she said after a moment.

Channary's eyes widened at this, and her expression clouded with darkness. "No," she said assertively, jutting a finger to Levana's chest. "What's growing within you is human life and you must respect it—I will not allow you to terminate it."

Levana's mouth bobbed open like that of a fish. "It's _my _body!" she exclaimed after a moment, her knuckles turning white from how tightly she was gripping the sheets. "And it's not like you have much respect for human life yourself, _big sister._"

A flash of contempt set Channary's jaw, and her lips curled into a sneer. "You got yourself pregnant, you have to stick it through to the end. It's not my fault that you're such a _slut_, Levana."

The princess' blood boiled, and heat flooded her face. Even though Channary's insult was low and far-fetched, it still hurt just as much as one of her slaps. She took a moment to breathe, trying to calm the thumping in her ears.

"_You_…" Levana quivered. "_How could you say that_?"

The queen lowered her head, fisting the material of her dress, her entire body quivering with rage. Levana felt a pang of fear—it was never a good thing, when Channary was angry—but the damage was done. She could only sit taller and wait for her punishment, and she would do so with at least a little dignity.

"Oh, so you want to play _that _game, do you?" the queen sneered, her voice dark and low. "You are on _extremely _thin ice right now, Levana—but if it's a fight that you want, then _game on_." Channary grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and stared down at her. "Just remember that like every game we've ever played," a shiver shook down Levana's spine at her glare, "you _will _lose."

Channary let go and stood, pushing the chair back, her skirt billowing around her ankles as she turned and began to saunter towards the door. "Another thing," she called out, her back facing Levana as she put one finger in the air. "You shouldn't go mouthing off to your superiors like that—not everyone will let you off as easy as I do. Not everyone would be willing to put up with such a miserable, ugly, useless—"

Levana cut her off. "I _know_ I'm ugly, and I know I'm useless. I know I'm pathetic, disgusting, unimportant. You don't have to remind me," she said, her voice full of spite.

"Just making sure that you know your place, little sister," Channary said with false sweetness before leaving, slamming the door behind her.

She stood outside the room for a moment, the sterile hallway deserted, and she clenched her fists, seething at Levana's words. Why did her parents have to leave her behind with such a disrespectful, disobedient _brat_? As if she didn't have enough on her plate already—being queen was _not _easy.

For years, her parents had been extremely strict with her education, urging her, raising her to be like them, or more specifically, her father. The king was a stern man, and never once had she seen him smile, other than with malice. She always knew to stay in line, completing every assignment perfectly and on time, adopting the proper conduct of a lunar sovereign. The long, boring lessons and the hours of etiquette practice were way better than the punishment she knew that she would receive if she defied either of her parents—'big chops', they were called. Once, she hadn't studied and failed her test on Luna's landmarks. For her big chop, she had to stand on her head and recite the name and location of every Lunar city, and if she made a mistake, she had to start over from the beginning. That day, she learned the consequences of being upside down for an hour, with blood rushing to your head, and that humans should always stay right-side up.

And then there was the dreaded closet. It was located right beside her parents' room, on the third floor. It was a tall, narrow space, filled with spikes and nails. Channary was seven when she had been first locked in there, after she had played dress-up with her mother's clothes and tore her favourite gown. It had been one of the few times that she had ever seen the queen so angry, and one of the few times that she had ever felt truly afraid. Jannali had taken her by the hand and locked her in the closet for the better part of the day, and Channary had come out hours later, her skin scraped and bruised.

She had always been told that it was for her own good, and more often than not, she believed them. She didn't really know any better, so when Levana came along, she expected her parents to be just as strict with her as they were with their eldest daughter.

They _were_ strict, but not in the same way. Levana was never punished as harshly, over such trivial things. If she failed a test or missed a lesson, her parents would just shrug it off. At first, Channary thought it was because they liked her more—but before long, she came to realize that it was because they simply didn't care about her. They wouldn't have even noticed if Levana crawled through the palace with a broken leg.

Channary loved being the favourite, admired by everyone, known as Luna's darling princess. It was a position that she was more than willing to fight for. She would always put her sister down so that she never became a threat—to her popularity or her throne. But as they got older, Levana _had _started to become a threat. She was a sweet girl, Channary knew, and it wouldn't take long before she earned the peoples' love and respect. After all, you attract more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.

She kept everyone on Luna wrapped around her finger, defending her territory like a feline. She was used to getting her way; so much so that when she didn't, there were usually casualties. As queen, she had all the power over Luna that she wanted, and everyone knew to stay on their toes, especially since the murder of her parents, which hadn't been taken lightly. The death of the shell assassin was not nearly enough to tame her anger, and there was only _one_ thing that Channary liked more than power.

_Revenge_.

All her life, she had been taught to hate the non-gifted, that they were and always would be lesser creatures, vermin of the worst kind. They couldn't be controlled, therefore they were a threat, and any threat had to be eliminated. After a shell had killed the king and queen, this only rooted her beliefs further, and only deepened her hatred. She wanted to avenge her parents, to wipe out the ungifted, to destroy their disgusting race once and for all.

So, as her first act as the new queen, she passed out laws saying that all living shells were to be imprisoned in an underground base, where they would be put to work as slaves. Any shells that were born would be taken from the hospitals and executed—to 'protect the sanctity of their society', Channary would say. Naturally, it caused a bit of protest, not only amongst the shells, but the gifted, too. Any uprising was quickly stamped out, the perpetrators arrested and the populace once again brainwashed into compliance.

Yes, Channary almost always got her way, and she ruled with an iron fist. She took what she wanted, and if she couldn't have it, she _destroyed _it, like she did with Saito. The thought of Levana—the failure in everything—marrying him and becoming empress nearly drove her mad. If she couldn't have him, then no one would, so she killed him. She took great pleasure in doing so, too, for his insolence and defiance were _very_ infuriating.

And if there's one thing anyone should know, it's that you should _never _defy Queen Channary.


	21. Chapter 20

Although Evret's obsession of the princess had been plaguing him nearly his whole life, it only got really bad around the age of nineteen.

At that point, he had been captain of the royal guard for a year and a half, and he loved every moment of it. He was truly passionate about his job, watching over all the members of the guard and mentoring the young recruits. It brought him great pleasure, teaching all those young boys the ways of the guard. They reminded him so much of himself at their age.

Although his life wasn't perfect—far from it—he still tried to make the best of things. Most knew him as kind and generous, with incredible patience. He had many close friends, and a girlfriend who always stuck by him.

But like everyone, there was also a dark side to him. One that harboured feelings of hatred, but most of all—lust. Alyssa, his girlfriend of two years, was the nicest girl he'd ever met. She was a very talented painter, and of course, extremely beautiful. Evret knew that he had feelings for her, but he wasn't sure if love was one of them.

_(Levana I can__'__t forget you I want to I can__'__t stop be mine)_

Because of her. That one girl who he had wanted from the beginning, the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes on. The one who had captured his affections, but who he couldn't talk to, because of their different backgrounds. They were raised worlds apart, he as a guard—a servant, really—and she as a princess, an heir to the throne.

Well, there was _one_ day when did talk to her.

That afternoon, after coming back from lunch, Evret sat down at his desk, firing up the netscreen. He tapped his fingers on the sleek metal, his gaze flickering across the screen as the bright and colourful homepage sprang up.

"Display news feed for Artemisia, Luna," he commanded. The device complied, and within seconds pages were popping up, filled with articles of the latest happenings around the city. One feed in particular popped up above the others, him having set it so that any feeds with a specific tag showed up first.

_April 16th, 106 T.E: Her Royal Highness, Princess Levana's 17th birthday. A ceremony is to be held in her honour by Their Majesties in the throne room of the Artemisia Palace, and all citizens are invited to come and bestow gifts upon the princess._

He set his cheek against his knuckles. He knew that it was Levana's birthday, of course—every single little detail that he could gather, he remembered. Each year he would bring a gift to the palace, marked anonymously, and as the years went by, they only grew bigger and more lavish. When they were young, it was usually a book, the best one he could find, but that year, he had an exquisite gown made custom, just for her. Early that morning, when the royal family was off for breakfast, he had slipped into her room, leaving the wrapped, unmarked package on her desk.

_(just for you Levana only for you I would do this I hope you love it)_

He wondered if she would actually wear it. How beautiful she would look in it, the silky fabric hugging her petite body in all the right places...

_(oh it__'__s pretty Evret does it look nice do you like it)_

He grit his teeth and buried his head in his palms, trying to suppress the heat that was flooding through him at the very thought of her. He crossed his legs, breathing deeply, trying to think of something else, _anything _else. His attempts were in vain, however, as his traitorous mind conjured up a fantasy that seemed like a movie playing before him.

He saw Levana in his room—the lights dimmed, casting a warm glow on her alabaster skin. She was naked, and so was he. Her finger curled in a 'come hither' motion, her dark eyes hazy, beckoning him forward. He complied, under her spell. She clung onto him, their bodies intertwined as they lay on the bed, with Levana pinned beneath him and her hair splayed out over the pillow like molten copper. Moans of pleasure filled the air as he moved within her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing them even closer together.

_(so hot so good I can__'__t stop I love you)_

"Mmm, Evret..." his imaginary Levana moaned huskily, running her fingers through his unruly black hair. He bent down, kissing her neck. "A-Ah! Please...right...there..." she breathed, her toes curling as he pushed her over the edge.

_(Ah no don__'__t stop I want this I want you so much this is the best)_

The sounds echoing in his head only made things worse, and he bit his lip so hard that he nearly drew blood. He had to snap out of it. Thinking of her like that—it felt so wrong, so disgusting—but he just couldn't _stop_. He couldn't deny or ignore how badly he wanted her, his body aching, knowing he couldn't have her. That being with her was an impossible fantasy.

Because she was a princess, and even though he was captain of the guard, he knew that he would never be worthy of such a woman.

"Evret..." his imaginary Levana spoke again, and he grit his teeth. At that moment, he would've given anything so that she went away.

_Stop. Leave me alone._

"I'm right here," she whispered, her voice silky and smooth, making the all-too familiar heat surge through his veins once again. "Why are you ignoring me, Evret? Don't you want me?"

_No. You're not real._

"Of course I am. You'd know if you turned around," she responded, stubbornness flooding her tone. He refused to turn and look at her, and he heard what sounded like a foot tapping impatiently.

_(so eager darling how can I resist you)_

His entire body froze as he felt her arms wrapping around him, and he saw her milky hands come to rest on his chest. His breath hitched as he felt her lips brush against his neck, leaving searing kisses as she made her way up to his ear. "I love you..." she murmured, heat flooding his face at her words, and he closed his eyes, trying to shake her off, willing the hallucination away.

A sharp knock at the door came to his rescue, just when he was about to give up and indulge in his sinful desire. He sighed deeply, trying to steady his breathing before calling out. "Yes?"

_(you disgusting pig yes feel shame feel so much shame)_

"Sir Hayle, you are needed at today's ceremony. Thaumaturge Mira is expecting you in twenty minutes," a servant called through the door.

"Of course," Evret responded, switching the netscreen off with the push of a button. He stood and stretched his arms out, his body cramped after spending so long in such a constricting position.

He walked over to his closet and pulled out his uniform, changing from the casual clothes he had worn that morning. He massaged his temples and ran a hand through his pitch black hair that ran down to his neck in gentle waves, taming it down. His tan skin was clammy from his freakout just minutes before, and he splashed water on his face from the bathroom sink, the coolness making him sigh in relief.

_(so hot so good)_

Grabbing his sword and slipping it into the sheath that hung around his hips, he left his room in the guard's wing, making his way to the antechamber where he knew the rest of the guards and thaumaturges would be waiting for the ceremony to begin.

"Ah, and the captain is here! Now we have everyone," he heard Sybil say as he entered the room.

"My sincerest apologies," Evret said as he shuffled over to his spot in front of the procession of guards. Before long, the massive doors opened and they were marching out down the aisle that spanned the middle of the room. He stared straight ahead as he walked along, taking in the people standing at the front—the royal family.

The king and queen were wearing their usual garb of regality, shimmering crowns and luxurious fabrics coming together perfectly. To their right was Princess Channary, as beautiful as ever in a peach coloured dress made entirely from lace, her blonde hair braided and adorned with white roses. Standing in front of them, on the steps, was Princess Levana, in a silk gown the colour of the night sky, the skirt shimmering with what seemed like stars. The bodice wrapped perfectly around her chest, accentuating her curves, with a crescent moon-shaped brooch connecting it to the off-shoulder straps, and midnight blue gloves that stopped a little past her elbows. Her silken auburn hair fell to her waist and a small tiara of shimmering regolith rested amongst her bangs.

His jaw nearly dropped. She was wearing the gown that he had given her.

_(oh baby I knew you__'__d like it I know you like the back of my hand)_

He remained stoic and composed as he continued further, yet on the inside, he was filled with glee. She actually liked the gown—his gift—enough to wear it. And did it ever fit her...

He came to a halt at the base of the steps, dipping into a curt bow. "Your Highness," he said, righting himself. "May I express my deepest wishes for a most happy birthday. Alas, I have no gift, but I hope that you appreciate my sentiment all the same."

Levana seemed completely unfazed by the fact that he didn't bear gifts; another one of her qualities that he admired. Unlike Channary, she didn't seem to want for much, and she didn't get upset when things didn't go her way. "That is quite alright," she said, her voice soft and demure, and she smiled, making her look even more beautiful. "After all, it's the thought that counts. I would, however, like to know your name."

It saddened him a bit, how he wasn't even important enough to Levana for her to know his name. "Evret Hayle, or Sir Hayle, if you prefer," he said, looking deep into her eyes.

"Sir Hayle..." She put a finger to her lips. "Captain of the guard. I'll have to remember you."

_(oh please I love you Levana you__'__re my everything)_

Her words made him smile, and he hid his blush behind his glamour. Levana then curtsied, and although it lacked the grace that he had seen Channary emit so often, he found it to be prettier. The crown princess was perfect, in every way, but he found Levana's flawed personality much more appealing—all her perfect imperfections.

A sudden boldness overtook him, and he took her hand, placing a kiss on the back of it, relishing in the feel of her, of simply being able to touch her. Without looking up to see her reaction, he let go and bowed before turning around and moving to the side, to let the next person come forth.

"Good day, Your Highness." he called out as he walked away, not knowing if she even heard him.

After that, life still went on as usual. He hadn't spoken to her again, despite how much he wanted to. Even though he knew that it was ridiculous, he had hoped that Levana had meant what she said, that she would remember him, and would maybe come to see him again.

She never did, but Evret had enough to worry about. He forced the memory into the recesses of his brain and forgot about it. His duties only increased after the death of Their Majesties, preparing for Channary's coronation and providing extra security around the palace.

After three stressful months of planning and preparation, Luna had finally celebrated the coronation of their new queen, and Evret was assigned to ballroom duty, guarding the partygoers and keeping an eye on his comrades to make sure that they didn't make themselves sick by scarfing down all the deserts.

The party went on without a hitch, and Evret was having a drink with a few of his friends when Sybil had called him over. He wondered whatever for, but didn't question, for it wasn't his place. Sighing, he put down his drink and left, joining the thaumaturge and her company: Channary, Levana and a man walking beside her.

Evret didn't recognize him at first, but his clothing and appearance made him assume that he was of high nobility—maybe even royalty. The emperor of the Eastern Commonwealth, he came to realize, as he stood by the door and listened to the heated argument between said man and the queen. It was all diplomacy, things he couldn't care less about, until Channary started yelling at him about his engagement to her sister.

_(how could you shun me Levana why do you love him I want you more)_

His face showed no emotion as he stood by, knowing that Sybil was somewhat watching him, but his heart still skipped a beat. Levana was _engaged _to him? She was to be _married_? It took him a moment to even process that, and even though he was trying desperately to calm himself, he couldn't help a twitch from developing in his right eye. The thought that he was with his princess, that he was _kissing _his princess made him tremble with rage. He knew that he was being petty, irrational—but the hate was too strong to ignore. It nearly made him sick when he realized that he was _jealous_.

_(how dare you you uptight royal prick I ought to kill you she__'__s MINE)_

He was never envious of anything, of anyone. But the thought of it all, how he had wanted her, how he known her for years and she didn't even remember his _name, _and then the emperor just swoops in and sweeps her off her feet, winning her hand in marriage; it made him so angry. _He_ was the one who had taken the time to know everything he could about her, the one who had sent her all those gifts, and yet, she chose Saito; probably because he had a crown.

So it brought him great satisfaction as he watched Saito drop dead, knowing that he would never have _his_ princess. When Channary had left him alone with Levana, he had taken her, right then and there. Evret was also angry at her, for having ignored him so long, and he didn't even care that he was hurting her. He blocked out her screams, and he finally got what he wanted—he had made her his. He didn't think much of it at the time, only out for his own pleasure, to satisfy his own demons. He had left her there, alone in that room, violated and in excruciating pain, not even realizing how much he had made her suffer.

_(you__'__re mine baby you__'__ve always been mine)_

Like all painful memories, he stamped it down, and went about his business as usual, as if he hadn't just ruined a poor girl's life. A very, very small and dark part of himself thought that she deserved it, for it was her fault that he felt such lust for her in the first place. _She_ was the one who had haunted him for all those years, who had teased him and taunted him with her beauty that was so far out of reach, who had seduced him without even knowing.

_The witch._

After that, he figured that it was the end of it. He knew that Levana would hate him forever—but he was too far gone to care. What did it matter, anyway? He couldn't ever have been truly with her, and he had gotten what he wanted. The fact she was a virgin, that he had been her first gave him a strange sense of satisfaction; he had claimed her as his own.

_(Levana you wanted it you know you did you__'__re mine and you know it)_

He thought that he would never speak to her again—until one afternoon, when he had some rather _unexpected _company.

He had the day off, a rare occasion. He was taking most advantage of it, devouring the many, many books on his reading list. He was just deciding which one to read next when he had heard a loud pounding at the door, that cut off his train of thought abruptly, and he jumped, his heart nearly tearing out of his chest.

"EVRET HAYLE! OPEN THE DOOR THIS _INSTANT_!" a furious voice roared, and Evret stood, shaking slightly from the shock. As he went over to the door and opened it, he was met with the last person in the world he expected to see—Queen Channary. She looked dishevelled, a few strands of hair coming loose from her braid, her pale cheeks blotchy and her lips twisted into a sneer, her breathing ragged and audible. She growled, pushing him further into the room and slamming the door behind her, coming closer to him with long strides.

"My Queen, whatever brings you—" he started, but was cut off as her hand shot out and wrapped itself around his throat, pushing him against the wall and constricting his airway.

"You have to be the most _irresponsible_ idiot I have ever had the misfortune of meeting," she spat, her brown eyes blazing, her body trembling with fury. Evret gulped, gripping her hand as hard as he could and tearing it away from his neck, gasping in relief. Channary's hand fell back to her side, her fists clenching. "What do have to say for yourself?"

"I don't know what you mean, Your Majesty. What have I done to anger you?" he croaked, trying to soothe his burning throat.

The queen chuckled darkly. "You don't know what I mean." Another laugh. "I'm talking about Levana, of course."

"What of her?" he said, his voice raspy.

"Well, let's see..." Channary put a finger to her lips, seemingly deep in thought. She then took him by surprise as she slapped him, hard. "I give you permission to fuck her and _this_ is how you repay me?!" she screeched, her face contorted with rage.

"What? What did I DO?" he yelled, angry now. Holding a hand to his stinging cheek, he pushed her away slightly.

"She's pregnant, Evret," Channary said, putting her hands on her hips.

Silence fell upon them, as Evret's eyes widened, looking at her as if she had just spoken Chinese. "What?"

"You knocked her up. Got her pregnant. What's so hard to understand?" She rolled her eyes, bringing her arms up and crossing them over her chest.

"Pregnant..." he mumbled, taking a sudden interest in his feet. He stared down at his black shoes, his gaze seeming to bore holes through them. His mind was racing, going into overdrive. He tried to wrap his mind around the reality of what Channary had just said. Pregnant. He had gotten Levana _pregnant_.

He was going to be a father.

"Is she going to...keep it?" he asked tentatively, his gaze wandering up to Channary's face.

"Wouldn't you like to know." the queen replied, her voice snarky and mocking.

"Yes, I would very much like to know whether or not I'll be having a child come into the world," he replied with just as much venom in his tone, and Channary narrowed her eyes.

"Yes, Levana will carry the child to term. But," she pressed a finger to his chest, "you will not interfere or introduce yourself to it, _ever._"

He grit his teeth. "But I'm the _father._"

"I don't care. It was never supposed to exist in the first place. Your idiocy is the only one to blame," she said, her brow furrowed. "Speaking of which, you're going to have to make it up to me."

Evret's pulse throbbed in his ears, and it took him a moment to even comprehend what the queen was saying. "I do beg your pardon?"

"Why must I explain _everything_ to you? I swear, your brain must be in your toes," she sighed, shaking her head. "Didn't they teach you the meaning of _responsibility _while you were training as a child? Such carelessness, like you've shown with my sister, cannot go unpunished."

"How do you think I should be _punished_, then?" he grumbled, biting his cheek, trying to stamp down his irritation.

Channary ignored the contempt in his voice. "You'll have to work an extra shift."

Evret raised an eyebrow. "That's all? Doesn't really seem like much, considering how much this whole situation upsets you."

"You'll see, when you find out exactly what kind of shift you'll be given."

"Kind of shift?" he echoed warily.

There was a bout of silence before Channary spoke again. "Since she's now pregnant, Levana will need a personal guard."


	22. Chapter 21

"Are you sure you'll be alright, Your Highness? Her Majesty does want to keep a close eye on you..." The maid that had helped Levana back to her room opened the door and let her in, said girl limping ahead of her.

"Yes..." The princess gripped the doorframe. "I'll be fine. Thank you," she mumbled. The maid was about to protest, but Levana shot her a cold glare, and she bit her tongue before she bowed and left. Levana closed the door behind her, leaning against it, and she lifted her head, her gaze wandering around the room.

"Hey." A soft voice came from below, and Levana glanced down to see Akiho, who was standing by her feet.

"Hi," Levana replied, her voice raspy. The android rolled forward and wrapped her arms around Levana's legs, burying her face in her skirt.

"I'm glad you're back," she said. "I've really missed you—it gets very lonely without you here."

The princess sniffed and fell to her knees, holding her arms out for a hug. However, instead of falling into her embrace, Akiho gripped Levana's shoulders with her prongs, giving her a good shake. "Don't you _ever _try anything like that again! What were you _thinking_?!" she shouted, her sensor flashing, the anger obvious in her voice.

Levana shook her head and pushed her away. "Please, Akiho. I really don't need this right now..." she mumbled, rubbing her temples. Sighing, she glanced over to her desk, frowning as she noticed something was missing. "Where is my toolbox?" She raised an eyebrow.

Akiho's sensor flashed, and she clasped her prongs together. "They took it. A bunch of maids came in yesterday and took out a bunch of stuff—Channary's orders, they said."

Levana's brow furrowed. "What things?"

"Potential hazards—medications, razor blades, cleaning products—and of course, sharp tools." Akiho gestured over to where the toolbox used to be.

It took Levana two seconds to figure out why. Why Channary even cared if she lived or died, however, was completely beyond her. Levana was half expecting the queen to have her put down; now that she finally had an excuse. The princess frowned. She could no longer do anything—taking her life was Channary's privilege. _Again_.

"I also hid the rope, so don't even _try_ to hang yourself," Akiho announced suddenly, effectively snapping Levana out of her daze.

Levana hadn't even thought of that, but now that the android had mentioned it, it seemed awfully tempting. Of course, she would need a good noose, but her cursed metal fingers made it so that she could barely tie her own hair back.

"I'm taking a shower," she said, annoyed. The effects that the drugs had on her still hadn't completely worn off, and all the overthinking was giving her a headache.

"Don't drown," Akiho called over her shoulder as she rolled away.

"Yeah, yeah," Levana said as she limped to the bathroom, kicking off her shoes and letting her cotton slip fall off her shoulders, the fabric pooling on the tiled floor. She took off her underwear and unwrapped the bandage from her torso, many tendrils of yellowed padding that she threw away carelessly, revealing a long line of stitches running down her side.

A very, _very_ gruesome line of stitches.

She turned to the full length mirror on the bathroom wall, and she cringed at her reflection. Standing before her was not a girl, but a sullen corpse, thin and frail, the stitched gash on her side much deeper than she had first thought. Her skin was deathly pale, her mess of hair dull and her eyes glassy. She chuckled darkly. All she needed was a black cloak and a sickle, and she could've passed for the grim reaper.

Levana shook her head. The grim reaper. She certainly _felt_ like death at the moment.

Stepping into the shower, she turned on the gentlest cycle she knew, free of soaps and shampoo—nothing that would make her injury sting or get infected. The frosted glass panels closed behind her and she let out a sigh as the warm water trickled down her body, loosening up her muscles, bringing a pinkish tint to her ghostly skin. Running her fingers through her tangled auburn hair, she stood on her tiptoes, stretching out her entire being, and it felt heavenly after the many days she spent doing nothing but lying down in a hospital bed. Her hand clenched around the bar that lined the wall, and she arched her back, crying out as a sharp pain surged through her body. She convulsed as she clutched her side, gasping for air.

Levana slumped back against the wall and skid down until she was seated on the wet tile, water still running down her body. She was crying at that point, arms wrapped around her torso, as she started cursing uncontrollably, staring at her metal hand—at the doctors who had made her that way. She hated them. She hated everyone on that stupid excuse for a planet.

She hated Evret for having ruined her, violated her. She hated Sybil for not letting her die. But most of all, she hated Channary. She hated her more than anyone has ever hated another person, and her hatred burned so big and bright, deep within her very soul. She wanted so badly for her to die, to burn in the deepest pits of hell, with an eternity of suffering.

She also despised the baby, the _thing _growing inside her. She didn't want it at all. The thought of her body producing a new life, conceived in violence and hatred, disgusted her. "This is all your fault..." she spat as she looked down at her belly. "That monster forced you upon me. All you'll do is hurt me, just like anyone else ever has..." She hiccuped. "I...I _hate _you!"

Levana buried her head in her hands and continued to sob, the water still running down her body. The body that no longer belonged to her. She had been thrown around, like some common object, to be taken and used when anyone so pleased. Already she had been possessed by some sick rapist, and now Channary was forcing her to carry his child—no—his _spawn_.

_Why can't she just let me live in peace?_

Not only her body was aching, though. Her heart felt so cracked and damaged, she was sure that it was about to fall out of her chest. All the people that she cared about were gone, killed so easily, and by the same person. In that instant, she had nearly lost her ability to love. What was the point, if the people she came to care for were to die in the end?

A glint to her left caught her eye, and she brought her arm up—her metal hand covering her mouth as more tears spilled down her cheeks. There, on her finger, was Saito's diamond ring, the only thing that the doctors had left untouched. She could've sworn that she had lost it in the lake, that it was gone forever.

"Oh, Saito...what should I do?" she hiccuped, bringing her hand to her chest. "I'm so scared and alone—why did you have to leave me?" Her breath hitched as she continued to cry. "I love you, I miss you, I _need_ you..."

She jumped as she heard a sharp rap on the glass panel, her heart nearly tearing out of her ribcage.

"Levana, are you okay? You've been in there an awfully long time..." she heard Akiho say through the sound of running water.

Levana rubbed her eyes, blinking quickly to clear her vision. "I'll be out in a minute!" she called back. Sighing, she managed to haul herself off the floor, the pain in her side seeming to subside the more she moved. The water cut off with the push of a button, and she shivered, the lack of warmth making goosebumps rise along her body. She stepped out on the mat, heaters coming on automatically with her weight, the hot air baking her damaged skin dry.

She wrapped her hair in a lush white towel in her best attempts to get it to stop dripping. No need to catch a cold on top of everything else. On the counter next to the sink were the only form of medical supplies she was allowed to have: some cotton pads, a few rolls of bandage and a special disinfectant salve.

Her nose crinkled as she opened the jar, a sharp and foul smell rising from the container. She grit her teeth as she dipped her human fingers in it, rubbing the clear jelly over her injury. A soft moan escaped her lips as the salve seemed to magically erase the pain, leaving a pleasant, cooling sensation behind. Placing a pad over the gash, she took a roll of bandage and wrapped it around her torso, from her hips to just below her breasts.

She wrapped a second towel around her body before leaving the bathroom, walking barefoot across her lavish chambers before coming to a stop in front of her closet. She pulled out a loose-fitting green dress that covered her from her neck to her toes, the sleeves stopping at her knuckles. She wanted to reveal as little of herself as possible, covering up as much of her body as she could. She could barely even stand to see _herself_ naked—it made her feel so _dirty_.

She dressed with deliberately slow movements, moving like a robot. Black flats went on her feet and she slipped on some black gloves, before taking a brush and nearly tearing her hair out, trying to make it look presentable. After a few minutes and many hair clumps, her auburn curls fell smoothly down to her waist. She cast out her glamour, covering the scars on her face, and making her body look curvier than it was—adding softness that a month of hunger and sickness had stolen from her figure. Her stark white skin gained a rosy glow, on her cheeks and her neck, giving the illusion of health, as if she were never sick in the first place. Gone were the dark circles under her eyes.

Levana took a deep breath. She felt a little better; a good cry had always helped to deal with her emotions and depression. It wasn't the first time that she was like that, all sad and miserable, but this bout was by far the worst. She had entertained thoughts of suicide many times in the past, but never before had she acted on them. Now, she felt as if maybe it was a good thing that Sybil saved her; the whole attempt had been in the heat of the moment, and Levana was even starting to regret it.

Even though things were bad now, they could always get better, at any time. Her bouts of depression would never last forever, and she hoped that this one was no different. She'll get out of it eventually, and she'll come out stronger than before. She just had to breathe, and take it one step at a time.

After all, suicide was a permanent solution, and her problem, as bad as it was, would only be temporary.

She had never seen a therapist, always too afraid of getting in trouble for talking about her problems to others, but that didn't stop her from reading articles on the net. Tips on how to be happy, and coping with such a dark and abusive family. Optimism and belief in yourself always helped greatly, and knowing that you weren't alone—Levana had Akiho, which had been enough for eight years, so why not now?

The princess smiled for the first time in over a month. She was loved by someone, and she _did_ have a reason to live. Killing herself wasn't her only way out; it was simply the easy one. If she were gone, Channary would win, and Levana would never give her the satisfaction of driving her to her death.

She also knew that Saito would've never wanted her to do that. He had always said that she was strong and brave—now was the time to be those things. She would stand tall, and time would heal her wounds. No matter what Channary did, she would stay alive, and someday, she was going to escape.

"Your Highness?"

Levana's fist clenched as she heard a knock at the door, slightly irritated at the disruption. What did they want now?

"What is it?" she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

"My gravest apologies for interrupting, Princess, but I just came to inform you that lunch has been served," a maid said through the door.

A moment of silence. "I'm not hungry."

"Her Majesty has requested that you make an appearance, Your Highness."

Levana let out a groan. "And by 'requested', you mean 'demanded', right?"

She heard the maid sigh. "I'm afraid so, Princess."

Levana's lips curled into a frown, and she threw a lone shoe back into her messy closet before slamming the sleek doors shut. "Tell Channary I'll be there in a moment," she called out over her shoulder.

"Of course."

She waited until the maid's footsteps faded out as she walked away, down to the dining room.

"The tyrant wants lunch with you?" Akiho asked from where she was sitting on the desk, fiddling with the netscreen.

"Unfortunately. But, duty calls," Levana sighed. "I'll see you later, Akiho."

"I'm sure you'll have loads of fun." The android's voice carried a snide air.

Levana managed a small smile. "Your work on your sarcasm is really paying off."

With a final sigh, she trudged over to the door and left her room, walking slowly down the hallway. She wasn't limping anymore, but she still tried not to make any sudden movements. Levana took the stairs instead of the elevator, wanting to make Channary wait as long as possible. Slowly, as slow as she dared, she went down to the second floor, and immediately to her right were the large, ominous doors leading to the lavish dining room.

She felt queasy already.

* * *

Only the scrape of utensils against porcelain and the scuffling of the servants' feet broke the silence of the dining room, neither of the sisters wanting to make any conversation.

Channary was, like always, eating her food daintily with not the slightest slip up, her posture perfect and poised.

Levana, on the other hand, seemed to wish death upon her peking duck, stabbing it repeatedly with her fork.

"Your food is already dead, you know. It's not going to run off on you," the queen said, raising an eyebrow.

"It never hurts to double check," Levana replied, her voice low and filled with venom as she slammed her fork into the meat once again—making the table shake a bit with the sudden force. Channary's eyes widened as her wine glass nearly toppled over, catching it before it spilled and stained her silk dress.

Shaking her head, the queen brought the glass to her lips and took a sip of the maroon liquor. Despite the red of her lipstick, no mark was left on the glass. "You are acting like a brat," she smirked, setting her glass back on the table. "Such bad table manners. Were you raised in the menagerie?"

Levana hissed, setting her fork down slowly, her shoulders hunched. Channary took a bite of her rice, a small amount of pearly white grain covered with orange sauce. Levana had wanted some, but she was strictly rationed—only a small portion of meat and vegetables, no starch or grain. Although she was normally allowed to drink a small glass of wine, all she had was boring old water. She expected her homecoming meal to be a bit more..._extravagant_.

"I just remembered; I never explained why I wanted you here in the first place," Channary said suddenly, taking another sip of her wine.

"Do share," Levana grumbled.

"Well, for the past few days I've been thinking about your..._situation_, and I figured that you would need a little extra protection for the next few months. You know how much I care about your well being, little sister."

Levana said nothing.

"So," the queen continued, "I've taken the liberty of assigning you a personal guard."

The princess quirked a slender eyebrow. "How thoughtful of you," she spat, picking up her spoon and scooping up some peas.

Channary sighed. "Yes," she put a finger to her lips. "Come to think of it, he should be here any minute. I thought I'd invite him for lunch as well, but I wonder what's keeping him."

As if by coincidence, the door at the end of the room swung open, and both sisters turned to look at the man who walked in. For a moment, nothing happened. Levana just stared at him, her brain trying to register what was going on—until she suddenly pieced it together. Her jaw dropped, and her spoon fell back on the table, peas flying off and bouncing around.

The queen clapped her hands together. "Ah, Sir Hayle! I'm so glad that you could join us," she chirped, a glowing smile on her face.

Levana shot up like an arrow, shoving her chair away from the table in the process, the legs screeching across the marble floor. "What the hell are _YOU _doing here?!" she screeched, pointing straight at him.

"Levana, this is your personal guard," Channary said carefully, as if she were speaking to a very slow child.

Levana's teeth were clenched, her lips curled into a sneer, and her entire body was shaking, her cheeks red and blotchy.

"Well, Levana?" Channary stood as well, putting her hands on her hips. "Don't be rude—aren't you going to greet your personal guard?"

Tears of anger pricked the back of Levana's eyes, and she spun around, stomping towards the door on the other side of the vast room.

"Levana! Where do you think you're—"

"Oh, SCREW YOU!" the princess screamed, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"PRINCESS LEVANA OF LUNA, HOW _DARE_ YOU SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY?!" Channary roared, slamming her hands down on the table. Levana bolted out the door, and her sobs could be heard all the way down the hall. Most of the servants had snuck out of the room right before the yelling began, but Evret hadn't moved, standing tall with his hands behind his back, completely unfazed.

It took Channary a moment to soothe her ragged breathing. Her hands fisted at her sides, and her blood boiled. It seemed like her head was about to pop.

Evret stepped forward. "Your Majesty, should I—"

"Yes, go after her," the queen spat. Evret nodded, leaving the same way Levana had, moving with long strides.

He wasn't very far behind her, and even though Levana was walking as fast as she could, she was still quite impaired from her wound—not to mention her healing ribs. Within a minute, she could hear his approaching footsteps, and she charged up the marble stairs, nearly tripping over the long skirt of her dress. Still, she continued on, even when the pain in her side started to come back. It began as a dull throbbing, but it grew stronger the more she moved, and she swore internally.

"Princess!"

Evret's loud voice made her blood run cold, and sudden, unwelcome memories came to her—of that horrid night, of his cruel words, and of his lustful and terrifying touch. Combined with the flaring pain, it was too much, and she convulsed, leaning against the wall for support. Her breath came out in short, shallow gasps, as she tried to make the hurt go away.

"Your Highness!" she heard his voice much closer now, as he came to stand right in front of her. "Are you alright?" he asked with concern, reaching out to help.

"No! Don't touch me!" Levana shrieked, as she budged past him and broke out into a run, trying to ignore the excruciating pain—although she was close to fainting. Evret went after her, having no trouble catching up. She tried to go faster, but the stress and the fear and the pain were making her see double. She lost it, though, when she felt him grab onto her arm. Her mind went into overdrive, and she squirmed relentlessly, anything to escape his vice-like grip.

"Levana, calm down—"

"NO! SOMEONE, PLEASE, HELP ME!" she screamed on the top of her lungs, nearly shattering her vocal cords. Evret winced, his ears ringing from the harsh sound. Someone was bound to have heard that.

Sure enough, within a minute there were five guards racing onto the scene, and Evret let go of her immediately. Levana shot away from him, huddling against the wall, trying her best not to pass out.

"Captain, what's going on here?" the tallest one shouted, worried by the call of distress.

"Nothing that concerns you." Evret shooed him away, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I've got this under control."

The guard closest to him scoffed. "Like hell you do. If you have it under _control_, how come the princess was screaming bloody murder?"

Evret grit his teeth. "I am under Her Majesty's command and I am simply following her orders. I will _not_ stand here and be questioned by the likes of you," he sneered.

The guard ignored him, walking over to Levana. "Was he bothering you, Your Highness?" he asked softly, genuinely concerned. His presence did nothing at all to comfort her; if anything, it made her even more agitated.

"Stay...stay away from me..." she whimpered, pressing herself even more against the wall, as if she wanted to melt into it.

"Please, Princess. I won't hurt you—I'm just trying to help." He reached a hand out. Levana's gaze darted back and forth, trying to find an escape, but they had her trapped.

"That's enough, Gerard. Step away from her." A stern voice rang out through the hall, and everyone froze.

Gerard's face fell. "My apologies, Thaumaturge Mira," he mumbled as he backed away. Sybil tossed back her silky raven hair, the click of her heels the only thing that could be heard as she walked over to them. Her beautiful face seemed shrouded in darkness, her slate grey eyes narrowed and her lips curled into a scowl.

"I want you all out of here this instant—get back to work. Even you, Sir Hayle."

Evret blinked. "But Her Majesty—"

"I don't care if Her Majesty told you to do whatever it is you're doing. I'm quite sure that creating such a scene in the middle of the hallway will make her pretty upset. Wouldn't you agree?" Sybil put her hands on her hips, quirking an eyebrow.

Evret sneered. "Whatever you say, _Thaumaturge Mira,_" he spat, and a flash of contempt set Sybil's jaw. "Back to your stations, the lot of you!" he shouted, and the guards obeyed, a few muttering crass words under their breath. Evret shot Sybil one last dirty look before walking away, and she made a face behind his back.

Levana hadn't moved, still pressed against the wall, and she was clutching her side, trying to relieve the pain. Her body tensed as she felt a warm hand on her shoulder—but she didn't fight, much too weak to even throw a punch.

"Levana, are you alright?"

She lifted her head, sniffling and trying to blink away her tears. "No."

Sybil glanced down at Levana's arm, which was still clutched at her side, the fabric of her dress gripped in her fingers. "It hurts, doesn't it?"

Levana bit her lip and nodded, letting out a soft whimper as the pain spiked once again. Sybil's gaze softened. "Come on, I'll help you to your room," she said softly. Levana was too tired to protest, and she took a step forward, but slumped forward as soon as she did. Sybil caught her before she could fall.

"Be careful, Princess," Sybil chuckled slightly.

Levana immediately righted herself, regaining her footing. "I'm sorry..."

"No need to apologize. Can you walk on your own, or should I carry you?"

The princess flushed. "I can walk myself," she muttered.

Sybil nodded, and Levana took a deep breath, stepping forward tentatively. She put one foot in front of the other, until she walked at a slow yet steady pace. Sybil followed next to her, ready to reach out and catch her if she were to fall again. Thankfully, they weren't too far from Levana's room, and Sybil politely opened the door for her. Levana thanked her under her breath, slumping down on her bed, her body trembling slightly. She glanced around, wondering why Akiho hadn't greeted her—until she saw her plugged into her charging port by the wall. A battery icon was displayed on her black sensor, and the rectangle was nearly empty. Levana had momentarily forgotten that Akiho would usually charge herself when the princess was either out or asleep.

Without hesitation, Sybil grabbed an empty glass from the desk and filled it with water from the bathroom sink, adding a few ice cubes from a tray on the shelf for good measure. She went back to Levana, as she took out a plastic pill tray from her pocket.

She popped one out with her finger. "Here, take this," she said, holding the pill out in one hand and the glass of water in the other.

Levana eyed the small red tablet warily. "What is that?"

"Ibuprofen. It'll help with the pain."

Levana took the pill from Sybil's open palm, popping it in her mouth as she grabbed the glass of water. The cold glass was refreshing against her flushed skin, and she brought it to her mouth—washing the pill down and soothing her sore throat at the same time. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and she stopped trembling.

Sybil raised an eyebrow. "Better?"

"Yes. Thank you," Levana said, her voice slightly raspy. "Do you always carry those around?"

"Usually. I tend to get really bad headaches," Sybil replied calmly, slipping the pills back in her pocket. An awkward silence fell upon them, neither knowing what to say.

"So, what was that about, anyway?" Sybil asked after a moment.

Levana's breath caught in her throat, and it took her a minute to come up with a response. "Channary assigned _him _as my personal guard," she muttered.

"Him?" Sybil's brow furrowed. "Do you mean Sir Hayle?"

Levana nodded, and something akin to fury twisted her face in odd ways.

"The captain as your personal guard? That's a new one..." Sybil clucked her tongue, deep in thought. "That's about the last job in the world one would expect a man of his rank to assume."

"Channary chose him just for me," Levana sneered, the sarcasm lost on Sybil.

"Why?"

Levana brought her knees up to her chest. "I don't want to talk about it."

Sybil's brow creased even more. "Why not—"

"If you want to know so bad, go and ask Channary yourself. This conversation is over." Levana cut her off, rolling around as fast as she dared, the pain in her side and chest still not completely gone.

Sybil took a step back. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. I shouldn't have asked." She was still completely in the dark, but she let the subject go for the time being. "I guess I should leave you be, then. Try to take a nap; it will help your body heal, and you'll feel much better."

"Yeah, whatever," Levana grumbled.

Sybil let out a sigh as she walked away, leaving the room as silently as she could. Even after she left, Levana stayed in her ball, afraid that even the slightest movement would shake off the effects of the painkillers. A single tear of anger and frustration rolled down her cheek, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to avoid full-on crying; she would save that for when she didn't feel like a boulder was crushing her ribs. She let go of her glamour, wallowing in her heavy, broken body. She felt no different from before. She was still in pain, and she still wanted so badly to die—to be somewhere safe, with no more hurt, no more suffering.

The darkness had returned.

So much for getting better.


	23. Chapter 22

"Kai, it's bedtime. Please stop fighting me," Empress An sighed, trying to put her squirmy son to bed.

No matter how much she attempted to ease him into his crib, he would still resist. The prince was only seven months old, but he was already quite fussy—and he hated bedtime. Kai whimpered, holding his hands out to his mother's face, anything to delay sleep.

"No, I've already read you three stories tonight. That's enough."

His little feet wouldn't stop kicking as he flopped down on the mattress. "Pa!"

An's gaze softened, and she took one of his tiny hands in her own. "You want your father, don't you?" She said softly.

"Pa! Pa!" Kai chirped, tearing his hands away from her and clapping them together. The empress smiled, and her son squirmed even more. "Pa..." he whined, growing impatient.

An rolled her eyes. "He's probably in his study, moping around like usual..." Her expression turned sad and downcast—a rare change from her usually sunny and cheerful demeanour. "You'll see him tomorrow."

Kai stopped moving, and little tears began to form in his eyes. "Pa?"

"Don't cry, honey..." An ran a hand through his fine black hair. "Tell you what. The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you'll be with Papa, okay?"

The baby grabbed onto his mother's hand, sniffling.

"Goodnight, Kai. I love you," she said, planting a kiss on her son's forehead. With a last smile, she left the room as silently as she could, flicking off the light switch. As she closed the door, she could hear Kai babbling instead of his usual crying—much to her relief. He would tire himself out eventually.

As if they had a mind of their own, her fingers ran themselves through her long bangs—she found herself doing that a lot lately. It was one of her many nervous ticks, that had been very prevalent for the past month, ever since Rikan had come back from Luna.

_Alone_.

Well, not _really_ alone. Torin had returned with him, as well as their two guards. An had wanted to join him, eager to finally see the mysterious country on the moon—that she had so often admired from the palace on Earth, the domes nothing but small dots on the surface. As soon as she had brought it up, though, Rikan nearly threw a fit, saying that it was dangerous and that he was only going because Saito made him. She usually trusted her husband's judgement, so she dropped the subject. Besides—she wasn't all too keen with leaving her young baby alone for a week.

Now, she was somewhat glad that she didn't come. Rikan had returned that day, storming off the ship—apparently Saito had an 'accident', and the lunar court had made them leave the morning after the queen's coronation, saying that the emperor would return in due time.

And return he did—but not alive.

Never, in the many years that they had been together, had she seen Rikan so furious. He had spent hours in his older brother's chambers, curled up on Saito's bed—kicking and screaming and swearing like a fiend. And that wasn't even the _half _of it. Two days after the funeral, he had been crowned emperor, taking his brother's place. The ceremony was quite smaller and much more private than the typical Eastern Commonwealth coronation—to give the country time to grieve, although Saito's death was rather downplayed. The populace believed that he had died by accident, a malfunction on the spaceship that the emperor was supposed to return to Earth on. In reality, though, there was no malfunction, and only Saito's body was on said ship—no one else.

For the past month since he had returned, the new emperor wouldn't even leave the palace. An grew worried quickly, not wanting a repeat of when his parents and eldest brother died. Rikan would rarely even speak to her or their son.

And she was quite fed up. Enough was enough.

"Rikan?" She tapped against the door to her husband's office, desperately hoping for a response. Like before, though, he never answered—so she let herself in.

The young emperor was hunched over his desk, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath. The office that he had claimed as his own always seemed to be far too extravagant to work in—three ornate tasseled lanterns were lined up on a red-and-gold ceiling, hand-painted with elegant dragons. A holographic fireplace was set into the wall to his left, and there was a sitting area with carved cypress furniture surrounded a miniature bar in the far corner. Silent videos of him and An shimmered from picture frames by the door, sometimes paired with flashes of the three brothers growing up, and sometimes all of them together, with their parents.

"Rikan, this is getting ridiculous."

He raised his head, turning to look at An, who had her hands on her hips. "What?"

"You and your moping. All of New Beijing is wondering if you're still alive, and the Prime Minister of the AU is still nagging me nonstop on when you'll be joining her and her family this spring."

Rikan groaned. "Let her know that I'll talk to her when I'm available. Right now, I'm very, very_ busy_," he spat.

"Doing what? Trying to resuscitate your brother in your dreams?"

He set his cheek against his knuckles, obviously annoyed. "I don't need your snark."

"Rikan, your son has been wanting to see you for days—I'm tired of making excuses. You can't just stay in here forever. That won't change anything, and you know it." An tucked a lock of black hair behind her ear and sighed. "Look. I know you're upset, and I fully understand that. But this isn't you, Rikan. I know you well enough to say that this is more than you make it seem. Will you please talk to me?" She walked up to him, putting a soft hand on his shoulder, barely noticing as his fists clenched, hard.

"I'm going to kill them."

An's brow furrowed. "What?"

"I'm going to kill every single one of those goddamn Lunars, and I don't care if I wipe out their whole disgusting race," he spat, every one of his words full of pure hatred.

"Rikan..."

"No, An! Don't tell me that I don't know, that I'm just making assumptions! I know they're behind this! I KNOW!" He slammed his fist against the hard wood, making both An and the lamp on the desktop jump. "They killed him! They _KILLED MY BROTHER_!"

An covered her ears with her hands, cringing. "Please, stop shouting! You know it freaks me out," she whimpered.

"I told him! I warned him, but does he _ever_ listen to me? NO!" Rikan went on, as if she hadn't spoken. "It was the same with Tsukune! The little runt brother doesn't know anything at all—his word is worth _nothing_!"

The empress sighed, shaking her head. "You don't know for sure..." Her voice wavered. "The court might be telling the truth—maybe it was just an accident."

Rikan stood suddenly, pushing his office chair back. "Do you know what they found in the autopsy?" He turned to her, his gaze smouldering. "A bullet. In his _brain._"

"But—"

He threw his hands up in the air. "How are you even still doubting it, An? He was _murdered_! _Killed_!" A growl escaped him as he bunched his hair in his fists—it was a habit that was quite common amongst all three brothers. "And I have a pretty good idea who did it," he muttered darkly.

"Who?"

Rikan's lips curled into a sneer. "That cursed princess that he had been fooling around with—I had warned him against her, but he was too obsessed with sucking her face. You should've seen them, An. She was clearly trying to get in his pants, like her kind are so good at doing."

"No need to be so vulgar," An sighed. "I get your point, but I still think that you're drawing to conclusions. To me, it's much more likely that the Lunar queen is behind all this. After all—she does have motive..."

Rikan rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm well aware that she's trying to sweep the commonwealth from under our feet. Who do you think half of my unread comms are from?" He pulled up his chair and sat back down, still fuming. "She was trying to forge a marriage alliance with Saito."

An's jaw dropped. "What."

"Yeah, that was my reaction too. He made me swear to keep it a secret while he dealt with her privately, but he's dead now, so it doesn't really matter, does it?" He chuckled softly. "At least I have one defence against her demands: I'm already married." Rikan turned to face her, a genuine smile on his face.

An blushed slightly, fiddling with the wedding band on her ring finger. "That's slightly comforting..."

"Yes, but it won't be for long. The witch will eventually find some other way to threaten us. Maybe with war, or..." He trailed off, and An could see his jaw tense.

"Or?" She wrapped her arms around her chest, feeling nervous. An was quite new to the world of politics, only having met Rikan three years ago—and even then, he wasn't really involved. As the third prince, he wasn't taught the ways of a ruler as much as his brothers. He never thought he would get the throne, so he slacked off quite a bit. An could tell that he was struggling, stressed—and although he would never admit it—afraid. He didn't really know how to deal with such a situation.

"She might go after Kai."

An snapped out of her thoughts, a look akin to shock on her face. "Kai? You don't mean that she'll..." The empress put a hand to her mouth. "She wouldn't do that, she _can't _do that! He's just a _baby_!"

"Well, as far as Queen Channary is concerned, morals and values are only for the," he made quotation marks, "_simpleminded peasants._" Rikan let out a long sigh. "As soon as we're out of the picture, she'll most likely reel him in with threats—or seduction."

An felt sick to her stomach, her disgust obvious. She couldn't bear to imagine Kai, no matter his age, with a woman who was old enough to be his mother.

"Scary, right?" Rikan said suddenly, making An jump. "But I swear, as long as I'm alive, she will never lay a finger on our son." In one swift motion, he stood and came next to his wife, taking her by surprise as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "I'm so sorry about the past month...I never meant to abandon you or Kai," he whispered in her ear, nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck.

An could hear the genuine sadness in his voice, and she took him into her embrace. "I understand, Rikan. I can't even begin to imagine how hard this must be for you—but I've dealt with loss, so I know how you feel," she sighed. "However, you can't go on like this. It's not just you and me anymore."

Rikan pulled away, close to tears. "I just...I want to avenge him, to make those," his lips curled into a sneer, "_freaks _understand that he was more than just a pawn. That he mattered."

"Rikan, he did matter. All of our people loved him, as they love you." An took his hand and fiddled with the matching wedding band on his finger. "Please, don't go messing with the Lunars. I fully agree with you—that they should pay, if one of them did indeed kill Saito—but you can't just go threatening war against them. They're so much more powerful than we are, and they would kill off our army before we could even leave the planet."

"I wasn't really thinking of war _per se,_" he muttered.

She put a gentle hand on his cheek, her brown eyes glistening with tears. "It's not just us. There's our country, our people—and our son. They should always come first. You know the biggest rule in politics—never make it personal."

Rikan chuckled. "You remember that bit?"

An quirked an eyebrow. "I know a lot more than you think. Don't underestimate me just because I wasn't born a royal like you, _Your Majesty_."

The emperor took her in his arms and dipped her down, leaving her in the vulnerable position of teetering between him and the floor. An gasped. "I never have, darling," he smiled. "Stars, I love you..." He said as he gently kissed her cheek.

In a rare moment of boldness, An pulled his face away slightly and captured his lips with hers, pulling him closer as she deepened the kiss. Slowly, she came upright until they were both standing straight, with her slightly on her tiptoes to match his height.

They were both quite out of breath when they finally broke apart. Rikan grinned, and he rested his forehead against hers. "So, does that mean I'm forgiven?"

"No, not really. You're not off the hook yet," An giggled, her skin flushed. "That was just your birthday kiss."

Rikan pulled away slightly, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Birthday kiss?"

An rolled her eyes. "You forgot that it was your _birthday_ today?" She asked, as if he were the most idiotic person she knew.

He ran a hand through his hair, incredulous. "I guess I did. How come none of the staff mentioned it?"

"Because you've been holed up in your cave all day, and the staff were too afraid of angering the troll," An replied playfully.

"Troll?" Rikan smirked. "I'm pretty sure that I'm a mighty dragon."

An let out an unladylike snort, poking his chest. "You wish."

A bout of silence fell upon them, as they both gazed out one of the large glass windows behind the large desk. From it, they could see the night sky—the stars faint because of all the light pollution. But the thing that caught their eye was the full moon, big and bright in the dark canvas of space. It sent a shiver up both of their spines.

"What is it like up there?" An asked, resting her head against his chest.

Rikan took a deep breath. "At first glance, it's mesmerizing. You can't look away once you set your eye on one of those gleaming domes. It's the most beautiful place in the universe, full of gorgeous, perfect people."

"Is it really that amazing?"

He ran a hand around her torso, pulling her closer to him. "Yes," he breathed, blinking once. "But it's also the most ugly, terrible and terrifying place you could ever imagine."


	24. Chapter 23

Sybil took a deep breath as she stood in front of the door to Channary's study, her hand raised, reluctant to knock. Even though the queen had made it clear that she was welcome anytime, Sybil always felt victimized in her presence, despite having grown up with her. She knew Channary better than anyone—which _wasn't_ a good thing.

She rolled her eyes. Cowardice was pathetic, and she wasn't about to give in to hers. Normally, she didn't really pay attention to what was going on between the sisters, for she had seen enough to know that it was wise to stay out of their drama. But the other times had been minor. The other times had never been bad enough for someone to die. They had never driven Levana to attempt suicide.

With a final breath, she brought her fist down on the door and knocked, biting down on her lip so hard that she nearly drew blood.

"Come in."

Even after all this time, the queen's voice still made the hair prickle on the back of her neck. Sybil pushed the door open, stepping soundlessly into the room, stopping for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the brightness. It was a large space, the walls a soft white with mahogany baseboards, the marble floor so smooth that she could see her own reflection in it. Two of the walls were covered with long, white shelves, each packed with books of every kind. Most people only read books on the net—owning physical ones was a great privilege, that only the most wealthy could afford—since real books had gone out of print for hundreds of years.

The most stunning feature, however, were the many crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. Though small, they were nearly blinding, twinkling all over the room. Channary had a weird phobia of the dark. She always slept by candlelight, and would only work in her study or solarium with her many bright lights. Ever since she was crowned queen, the days became longer—sometimes the domes would stay bright with artificial sunlight until eleven at night or so. Channary had no interest whatsoever in visiting Earth, but if she ever went, it would solely be for the warmth and sun.

The queen herself was seated at the large glass desk that lined the end of the room. The surface was littered with papers, pens and books, and a steaming teacup sat on the short platform in the corner. She clicked a few letters on her sleek keyboard, adding a few words to the many that already marked the document displayed on the screen.

"What do you need, Sybil?" Channary asked suddenly, her eyes darting across the open book to her right. "Don't twaddle around back there. Come closer."

Sybil gulped slightly. "My apologies, Your Majesty," she mumbled, walking over reluctantly.

The queen turned her head to look at her. "_My apologies_? You don't have to be so formal with me, Sybil. I mean, we're friends, right?"

Sybil's hesitant smile froze on her face, fear brewing in her gut. "Of course," she lied. Sybil had no idea what Channary's definition of a friend was; all she knew was that it was very, _very _different from her own.

"That's good." Channary swivelled her chair around so that she was facing her completely. "I've noticed that you've been a bit distant lately. Is there something on your mind?"

"Not at all."

"You're lying." Channary's smile turned to a pout. "You know that I hate it when you lie."

Sybil sighed, puffing her cheeks a little as she did so. "How is your shoulder, My Queen?"

The queen quirked an eyebrow. "My _shoulder_? It's doing fine, thank you." One of her hands came up absentmindedly to her pale skin, rubbing along where the scar would be under her glamour. "A bit of a random question, though. Why do you ask?"

"Just being polite, Your Majesty. You've seemed a bit stressed for the past few days. Is there something on _your _mind?"

"Quit stalling, Sybil."

The thaumaturge blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I know that you're just trying to avoid the reason why you interrupted my work in the first place. As you can see, I have a pretty hectic schedule today. You came here to ask me a question. What is it?" Channary tapped her spindly fingers against the pages of a book, impatient.

Sybil took a deep breath, twiddling her thumbs underneath her sleeves. "I'm worried about Levana."

Channary's lip curled sightly in disgust at the very mention of her sister's name. "You are? Why?"

"She hasn't been well for the past month, and she just tried to kill herself, as you know." Sybil frowned. "And she was freaking out when touched by Sir Hayle. What's that all about?" Her nose scrunched in frustration, trying to come up with an answer. She had a faint idea, but there was no way that it could be true. Channary would've never let it happen—although she wasn't about to put it past her. "And why would you make him, of all people, her personal guard?" She continued. "I'm sure that there are dozens of men that are much more qualified for the position."

A sly grin spread across the queen's face, full of malice and, strangely enough, amusement. "She won't tell you?"

"No, Your Majesty."

A soft chuckle. "Of course not. After you took Saito's body away, Levana was still being an insolent little brat. And do you know what you're supposed to do with little brats?" Her eyes met Sybil's. "Punish them. I let Evret carry out the punishment, though. He has the ability to destroy her in ways that even _I_ can't."

Sybil's brow furrowed. "I still don't understand."

"Just think, Sybil. This is a guessing game," Channary said in a sing-song voice. "I couldn't do what he did because I'm not a man."

_Not a...man?_ Sybil's eyes widened. It finally clicked, her horror and revulsion quickly showing on her face as her impossible doubts were confirmed. "You didn't."

Channary smiled, bringing a dainty finger to her lips. "You got it, then. Smart girl."

"_Why_?"

"Because she deserved it. The little leech has been nothing but a thorn at my side ever since she was born, but I much prefer _spawned_. A parasite that's good for nothing more than irritating people to death."

Sybil was rendered speechless. "You..." Tears of hatred and fear pooled in her eyes, and her hands balled into fists. The horror was quickly replaced with fury. "How could you do such a thing?!"

Channary laughed. "You're acting like it's _bad, _Sybil. Admit it. It's hilarious."

"You're sick," Sybil spat. "Nothing but a monster."

The queen pressed her lips together in a thin line. "You know, that's exactly the kind of talk that will get you stripped of your title and banished to the asteroid belt. We wouldn't want that, now would we? You're quite a pleasure to have around." Channary cocked her head ever so slightly. "Well, most of the time."

Sybil's blood boiled, and it took every bit of her willpower to avoid jumping on Channary and strangling her to death. _Breathe in, breathe out. One, two, three._ The age old mantra spun around in her head, words that she had been taught as a child to control her anger, so many years ago. A violent one, she was. Always getting in trouble for hitting and kicking other students when they crossed her.

Channary took a sip of her tea. "Why do you even care, anyway? You usually find this hilarious."

"This is too far, Channary." It was one of the few times that Sybil had ever addressed the queen by her name, and she did not like the way it rolled off her tongue. "Do you even realize what you've _done_? I understand that you don't like her, or that you even downright hate her, but to go as far as having her _raped_?"

Channary raised an eyebrow, expectant. She seemed completely unfazed at Sybil's words, which only served to anger the thaumaturge further. "Your point being?"

"Levana is your _sister_. Your own blood. How would you feel if she had done this to you? If she had betrayed you like that?"

The queen scrunched her nose. "I wouldn't care. It's just rape; she'll get over it eventually."

"Just like you have?"

Silence filled the room for a moment. Channary's playful expression became as hard as stone, her grin melting into an ugly frown. "What did you say?"

Sybil gulped, afraid, but still holding her own. "She'll get over it, like the way you got over what Alexander had done to you?"

The teacup in the queen's hand cracked in her grip. Sybil jumped back, barely missing the steaming hot tea and glass shards that flew as the cup shattered. "Never utter that disgusting name again. That was years ago, and it is to stay in the past," Channary sneered, her right eye twitching. "My father dealt with him accordingly."

"You know how it feels," Sybil continued on, as if the queen's outburst had never happened. "You know what it's like. Now imagine Levana's pain. She has no one to help her. The one person who she would be expected to trust is the one who allowed this to happen—you. How could do that, knowing how much it hurts? Do you even have anything _resembling _a heart, Channary?"

Channary wrapped her hand around her forearm, trying to soothe the pain of the scalding tea that was most likely burning her skin. "I don't give a damn. The little bitch can rot in the dungeons for all I care."

"This isn't fair. The fact that you're the queen doesn't give you the right—"

"Sybil, I thought I said that I don't care about her," Channary interrupted. "Now, it would be a complete shame, but if you don't leave right now, I _will _have you deported to the other side of the solar system."

Sybil's hands clenched into fists. "Fine. Be that way. You may have all the cards now, Channary, but one day it will come back to haunt you. And when it does, you'll regret it."

The queen pointed a finger towards the door. "Leave," she said in the darkest, most threatening voice she could manage.

Sybil spun around and walked double time to the exit, not wanting to spend another minute with the crazy witch.

"Oh, and Sybil? You are not to approach Evret about this incident at all. You will not harm him. If you do, I will kill not only you, but Levana as well. Stay out of this. It doesn't concern you."

Said woman stopped for the briefest of moments before continuing out the door. She slammed it shut behind her, not even caring if she angered the queen further. Channary's words registered in her mind, but she was too worried to feel angry. Levana was her first priority right now. She would deal with Evret Hayle later—even though she wasn't allowed to confront him directly, she would make sure that he got a little taste of her revenge.

He would pay in due time.

* * *

There was no sound coming from behind the door to the princess' bedroom by the time Sybil made her way there. She grasped the handle and opened the door carefully, trying to be as quiet as possible in case Levana were still asleep. It was a good thing that the doors of the palace didn't creak, whether they were made of metal, glass or wood.

She froze, though, as she noticed Levana sitting up on her bed, the covers still done neatly, not a pillow out of place. Her hair was a bit messy, though—so she did sleep a bit. The scratching of pencil against paper filled the room as she doodled in one of her many sketchbooks, a large leather-bound pad that was as black as night with little stars on the outside cover. The princess' gaze flit upward for a second, taking in the person before her.

Feeling like a deer caught in headlights, Sybil smiled sheepishly, putting her hands behind her back. "Oh. You're awake."

Levana ignored her, looking back down and resuming her endless assault on the paper.

Despite her radiating coldness, Sybil persisted. "How was your nap?"

Obviously irritated, Levana peered up over her sketchbook, the pencil still flying across the page. "What do you want now?"

"I came to say hello."

Levana just looked at her, scrunching her nose in confusion, as if her words were jumbled.

Sybil sighed. "Oh, come on! I just thought we could, you know, hang out," she said, smiling nervously.

"Hang out?"

"Yeah. Like friends."

The princess scoffed, diverting her attention back her drawing. "Haven't you heard? I'm Princess Levana, the freaky loner." She rolled her eyes. "I don't do _friends._" Her voice was low and threatening—however, it didn't deter Sybil like it should have.

"I don't believe that." The thaumaturge came to sit next to her on the bed, her back straight and posture perfect. She didn't notice Levana scooting further away, scribbling in her sketchbook. "Of course, to make friends, you have to get to know one another." Sybil put a hand to her chest. "For example, I like martial arts, and my favourite sport is rugby. What are your interests?" she asked, looking over to her reluctant companion.

Levana's brow furrowed. "Ignoring you," she said after a moment, rubbing her finger against the yellowed page. Sybil frowned, her perkiness wearing off.

"Look, I'm just trying to be friendly."

"I don't need your 'friendship', okay? I just need you to leave me alone," Levana barked, setting her pencil down. Sybil didn't listen, though—instead, she took the sketchbook from Levana's hands and gazed at the drawing on the page. Levana reached over, trying to grab it back from her. "Hey! Give that—"

"This is amazing," Sybil breathed, lightly running a finger down the lines and curves of the exquisite arctic wolf sketched on the paper. "You're really good. You should become an artist."

Levana snatched the book from her, cradling it to her chest. "It's none of your business."

"I'm sorry..." Sybil mumbled, suddenly ashamed. "I didn't mean to pry."

"It's nothing. I just need to be alone right now. Please, go away," Levana said, setting the sketchbook down on her bedside table.

"Is it true?"

Levana sniffed. "What?"

Sybil put both hands on her shoulders, making the princess face her. "Did he hurt you? Did Evret..._rape _you?"

Levana tensed up and her eyes widened, as if Sybil had just dropped a rock on her head. The very mention of the word brought tears to her eyes, and they started falling down her cheeks, one by one, until they turned into endless waterfalls, never stopping. Her breath came out in hiccups, and she was sure that her face was all red and puffy. Her chest began to hurt again, but she ignored it. She couldn't even respond, just wishing that she could curl up and die, like the miserable, hopeless wretch that she was.

"He did," Sybil said. It wasn't a question, but an undeniable truth. "Levana..."

"NO! STAY AWAY FROM ME!" Levana screamed, tearing Sybil's hands away and moving up as far away as she could, all the way to the headboard of her bed. All the pillows around her went flying.

Sybil winced. She was doing the exact opposite of what she wanted to do. The goal was to make Levana feel better, not freak her out.

_Great job, Mira._

"Hey, Levana, please calm down..." Sybil scooted a little closer, slowly so to not scare her any more than she already had. "I don't mean you any harm. I just want to help."

"No, you don't!" Levana hiccuped, nearly choking on her own air. "You just like seeing me upset! Do you get your kicks from watching me cry?"

"Why haven't you told anyone? You really shouldn't keep this bottled up, Levana. It's destroying you_._ You need help."

"How would _you_ know? You've never gone through these things. You have no clue how it feels to be alone, all the time. You have everything going for you, Sybil—there are people out there who would actually cry for you if you died."

Sybil gaped at her, obvious disbelief on her face. "Me? You think that _I_ have a perfect life?" An incredulous laugh escaped her, but she caught herself once she noticed Levana's glare. She took a deep breath. "I've never really told anyone—but I've been depressed, too. For a long time." Tears began to form in her eyes. It was rare for her—she hardly ever cried. "My family hated me. To them, I was nothing more than a burden. My brother once told me that our parents considered drowning me when I was born."

Levana rolled her eyes. "Join the club. Channary _loved _dunking my head in a bucket when I was three."

"Really?" Sybil ran a hand through her hair. "I've never heard that one before..."

Levana stared at her, clearly less than impressed. "Do you and Channary just sit around and talk about how pathetic I am, laughing about all the ways you've both tortured me? How _fun_ that must be."

Sybil's smile faded. "No. We don't," she mumbled, picking at the large sleeve of her coat. "When we were kids, it was mostly me waiting on her hand and foot. Or making me go with her to the catacombs—you must know how nasty it is down there."

"Oh, yes. The smell of dead bodies is quite lovely, isn't it?" Levana replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

The thaumaturge sniffed. "It was disgusting." She rolled her eyes. "Channary also made me play dress up, which sucked, because most of her dresses were so tight and fancy—it makes my skin crawl just thinking about it."

Levana scoffed. "I know, right? She's so skinny—I sometimes wonder if she's anorexic. It wouldn't surprise me."

"Or bulimic—she eats so many chocolates, it would be impossible to stay so thin when you stuff your face that much."

They both broke out in laughter, girlish giggles echoing throughout the room. The fact that it was at Channary's expense made all the more funny, and for the first time in a while, a warm glow lit up Levana's face—for real. It wasn't just her glamour. Sybil noticed, and her laughter drifted away, as she took in the sight of Levana smiling. A real, genuine smile.

She thought it was beautiful.

It took Levana a moment to realize that she was laughing on her own. "What?" She asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Nothing. It's just that, well...I like seeing you happy. It's nice." Sybil picked at the embroidered runes on the end of her sleeve. "You have a really beautiful smile."

Levana blushed slightly. "As if," she muttered. "Nothing about me is beautiful."

"Don't think so low of yourself. You really are beautiful—anyone with half a brain can see that."

"I guess I only have half a brain, then."

Sybil reached out and grasped her arm, squeezing gently. "Levana, you are worth so much more than what Channary makes you believe. I only wish that I could've seen that when we first met."

"Then why does everyone hate me so much?" Levana whimpered, tears running down her cheeks. "You're wrong, Sybil. No one cares. No one ever will. I'm better off dead."

Sybil's face broke into a quivering smile. "You aren't alone anymore. I'll be your friend." Her hand ran down Levana's arm until it grasped her own, holding it tightly. It was her right hand, the cyborg one, but this time, Sybil didn't flinch. She held as if it were made of skin and bone, not metal and wires. "You don't need to die."

Levana turned her head to face her, sniffling softly. Before she could say another word, though, she gagged, putting a hand to her mouth, about to be sick.

"Are you going to throw up?" Sybil asked in alarm, holding her upright by the shoulders. Levana nodded frantically, pushing her out of the way and storming off to the bathroom, lest she be sick right on Sybil's lap. The thaumaturge followed right behind her, dropping to her knees beside Levana as she threw up the entire contents of her stomach into the toilet. Sybil held her hair up so that it didn't get dirty and rubbed small circles on her back in a feeble attempt to comfort her.

Once she finished, Levana righted herself, breathing deeply to avoid choking on her own saliva and tears. Sybil continued to rub her back, giving her a moment to recover. "Are you done?"

"Yes, I think so," Levana whispered, her voice hoarse. She raised her sleeve, about to wipe her mouth, when Sybil stopped her, handing over a tissue.

"I don't think you want vomit all over your sleeve, Princess."

Levana grimaced, wiping the tears from her eyes and the dribble from her lips and chin. "Thank you."

Sybil said nothing, helping her up gently and throwing away the dirty tissue at the same time. Levana limped over to the sink, splashing water over her face, trying the wash the acidic taste of vomit from her mouth. As she did so, Sybil stayed back a bit, mulling over her reflection in the mirror on the wall. She had never owned one bigger than a compact, and she rarely even took it out of the suitcase that she had brought from home. It was her mother's and she meant to return it to her—but never got the chance, after she cut off all ties with her family at age sixteen.

"What are you looking at, Sybil?" Levana took her by surprise as she snuck up from behind.

Sybil shook her head. "Nothing. Just daydreaming," she chuckled.

"Oh."

An awkward silence fell over them. "So, what was that about? Bad meat at lunch?" Sybil inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Levana looked crestfallen, wrapping her arms around her middle. She bit her lip, feeling like she was about to cry, _again_. "No."

"Maybe the flu, then? Or is it the drugs? When I got my tonsils removed, the drugs they knocked me out with made me sick for three days. I couldn't hold anything down, not even water. Or maybe—"

"I'm pregnant."

"Or you're preg—wait, what!?" Sybil shouted, her head whipping around at breakneck speed.

"I'm pregnant, Sybil. He got me _pregnant_," Levana put her hands over her eyes, sobbing. Her knees buckled beneath her, and Sybil barely managed to catch her limp form before she hit the ground. Levana continued to cry, even as Sybil set her down gently so that she was seated on the heated floor. "Channary won't let me abort it. If I do, she'll probably torture me more, or even kill me..."

Sybil took her into her arms, holding her close. "I can't believe this...they're so evil, the both of them. Absolute demons." She felt like she was about to cry herself. "Levana, she has no right to say what you can and can't do. This is your body."

"It doesn't matter," Levana whimpered. "I tried talking to the doctors about it, but they wouldn't tell me anything; they didn't have to. If they went through with it, Channary would kill not only me, but them as well. They would never risk that, even to put me out of my misery. Because _no one cares about me._"

"I do. I care. Don't ever tell yourself the opposite, because it isn't true." Sybil ran a hand through Levana's hair, trying to tame it. "I promise that I'll be with you every step of the way. You're not alone anymore."

"But Channary—"

"She can say what she wants. I swore my loyalty to the crown, but even I have to break the rules sometimes." The thaumaturge smirked. "I'm sure she'll survive with one person taking care of you, instead of leaving you to suffer."

Levana sniffed. "No matter what you do, I'll be suffering anyway."

"The hurt won't go away. It never will. It can only fade with time, overshadowed by the good and joyful things that are surely to come your way," Sybil said, not once letting go.

"You came up with that?"

Sybil waved a hand. "Nah, Aimery did. He's really big on mental health. If he wasn't a thaumaturge, he would most likely be a psychologist."

"Aimery Park? Isn't he a second tier?"

"Yup. And he's also my best friend. Really stubborn and rude at times, but fiercely loyal." Sybil winked. "You should've seen him at the final rankings. If it wasn't I who ranked first, he would've gone all up on the person who did otherwise. He was really going for the top." She shrugged. "But he's quite fond his job now."

"That's good, I guess." Levana pulled away, much to Sybil's surprise. She stood, stretching out slightly before limping out of the bathroom.

"Hey, where are you going?" Sybil stood as well, following behind her.

"Back to bed. I'm tired." Levana flopped down amidst the lush duvet and sheets, facing away from Sybil. "Good night."

"But it's only 4:30," Sybil said, checking the portscreen in her sleeve. "If you go to sleep now, you won't make it through the night. Besides, don't you want dinner in two hours?"

"I'm not hungry."

Sybil sighed. "Levana, if you don't eat, you'll never get better."

"I'll call for a maid to bring me something," Levana huffed. "Please, leave me alone. I just want to sleep right now."

The thaumaturge blew a strand of hair from her face in exasperation. "As you wish, Your Highness," Sybil said calmly, tucking her hands in her sleeves. Already, she felt detached form Levana. Using formal titles always made things seem colder, more emotionless. She hated her title. Being around her friends was always welcome—they were the few who would call her 'Sybil', not 'Thaumaturge Mira'.

She dipped into a curt bow before walking away, ready to leave. However, she was stopped at the door by a short white android that had snuck up behind her.

"Oh, it's you," Sybil said, putting her hands innocently behind her back. "I was just leaving."

The android rolled forward a little, blocking her path. "What were you doing here? Were you bothering her?"

"No!" Sybil exclaimed, feeling oddly defensive. "I was just helping. She wasn't feeling very well, so I helped her back here after lunch. Come to think of it, where were you?"

Akiho's sensor, which was black—a sign of agitation—lightened to the standard light blue. "I was charging. My battery drains really fast when I feel nervous. And, well, you know—with the incident and everything, I have enough anxiety for days."

Sybil raised and eyebrow. "You felt _nervous_?" The corners of her mouth twitched as she fought back a laugh. "You're very peculiar, you know. I mean that in the possible way," she added sheepishly as Akiho's sensor flashed. She didn't want to upset the android. If Levana could hear their conversation, she was doing a very good job of ignoring them, but Sybil didn't want to worry her by messing with Akiho.

"I know." Akiho's head lowered, as if in shame. "Stupid glitches."

"For the record, I think you're really cool."

"Thank you," Akiho replied. "You're not bad yourself. Thanks for saving Levana, by the way. It was a really brave thing you did, diving into that scary-looking water."

Sybil chuckled slightly. "Oh, it was nothing—just really cold. As a part of our training, we had to jump from great heights and rescue others in dangerous conditions, so it was no big deal."

"But seriously, though. Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without her. She's my only friend."

"A really good friend she is," Sybil said. "And I promise that I'll help her, Akiho. It won't something like this happen again."

Akiho cocked her head. "Help her? You mean that you...know?"

"Yes. I know." Sybil felt a weight in her chest. "I feel so bad. I wish that I could just _kill _him, and Channary. They both deserve to die."

"When you do, call me. I'll be glad to help. And if I see that monster in the halls or even in here, I'll give him the what-for."

"You know about her personal guard?"

The android crossed her arms over her chest. "Yeah. Even when I'm charging, I can hear and see what's going on."

Sybil blinked. "That's really interesting."

"I guess." Akiho suddenly opened her arms wide. "Friendship hug?"

"You want to give _me _a friendship hug."

"Yeah. We're friends now!" Akiho chirped.

Sybil laughed, pulling the android into a hug. It was a bit awkward, with her being so tall. Her back bent over, she held on tight to the small robot, the one that could feel emotion. The one that was more human that some people she knew.

Never in her life had she ever thought an android, of all things, could mean so much to someone. Akiho was all Levana had. At least up until then.

From then on, Sybil swore that she would be there for her.

No matter what.


	25. Chapter 24

The months passed by. As autumn turned into winter, the air gradually got colder, Luna's climate controlled by miles of underground machinery. Sometimes, there was even artificial rain or snow pumped through miniature tubes that lined the side of the domes.

When Levana awoke one morning in January, all of Artemisia was covered with a blanket of white. The air was crisp and cool, her breath coming out in puffy clouds as she stood out on her balcony, barefoot in the soft powder. She had always liked the snow, taking every opportunity as a child to build goofy-looking snowmen.

"Snow day, snow day! How I love snow days!" Akiho chirped as she spun around the room, wrapped in a polka-dotted scarf. "Hey, Levana, you might want to put on slippers or something. You'll get frostbite!"

Levana wriggled her already-numb toes. The white skin had turned pink, and was covered in snowflakes. She shivered, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm fine."

Akiho came over and plopped down a pair of pink, fluffy slippers. "Quit moping. Here, put these on." Her prong twirled around the scarf as Levana silently slipped on the soft shoes, mumbling under her breath. Akiho rolled outside, running tracks through the fresh snow.

"Could you stop being so loud?" Levana grumbled, blowing a few snowflakes off her winter-kissed nose.

"Aw, cheer up! It's snowing! Don't you want to have a snowball fight? We could ask Sybil to join, and the little wolves, too! I'm sure that they'd like to get outside."

"No way. If I go out, than _he'll_ be there. I'm perfectly fine in my room, thank you very much."

Akiho nudged her gently. "If Sybil's with us, I'm sure that he'll keep his distance. I know for a fact that she and the captain don't get along very well. Never have."

"I don't care. Snowball fights are for kids, anyway." Levana went back inside, sulking. The puffed sleeves of her dress covered her hands, slightly wet from the snow. Her fingers made of muscle and skin were as bony as ever, her now-noticeable baby bump being the only weight that she had gained over the past four months. She had no appetite. No cravings either, much to her surprise. She had braced herself for the sudden, uncontrollable urge to stuff her face with chocolate.

Akiho flicked the scarf away from her blinking sensor. "Suit yourself, Miss Moodypants. You can stay here and pout, but I'm going to have fun."

Levana slumped down on one of the lush violet sofas that surrounded a glass coffee table. A sigh of relief escaped her. Her back was aching up a storm.

"Did you hear me?"

The princess rolled her eyes. "Yes, Akiho. Do whatever you want. I don't care." She set her cheek on her knuckles, her elbow propped up on the armrest. Instead of feeling the usual soft skin, she felt the bone of her sallow face. She had shed all the remaining baby fat on her cheeks, making her look years older. Her eyes had lost the wide-eyed wonder that she had once sustained, despite being nearly in her twenties.

It was funny. On the inside, she felt like a whimpering little girl. On the outside, she was a grown woman, her whole body weary from the constant pain and abuse.

How could she bear a child when she was still one herself?

"Don't do that."

Levana snapped out of her thoughts as Akiho came up beside her. "What?"

"Don't just sit there and stare off into space like that. It scares me." Akiho clasped her prongs together. "It's like you're thinking of jumping off the roof again."

"I'm seriously considering it."

"NO!" Akiho shrieked, making a mad dash towards Levana. She flung her metal arms around the girl's legs, holding on tight.

"Ow! Akiho, let go of me!" Levana winced, trying to shake off the android.

Akiho's grip only tightened. "No! I won't let you!" she whimpered. "I don't want you to go. I don't want you to die."

"Relax! I'm only joking." Levana shook her legs again. "Just please, let go. You're hurting me."

Akiho finally complied. She backed away meekly, clutching her scarf in both prongs. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "But that joke wasn't funny at all."

"Whatever." Levana curled up onto the couch's velvet cushions, until her knees drew up to her chin. "Could you just go away? Aren't you going to play in the snow?"

Akiho rocked back and forth. "I'm not going without you."

"Then you're gonna have to spend the whole day inside. I'm not going out," Levana huffed.

"Why not?" Akiho whined.

"It's cold. I don't want to be cold," the princess sighed. "And I'm really sore. My back hurts, my breasts hurt, my entire _being _hurts." She buried her head in her hands. "I just can't, Akiho. It's too much."

Akiho backed down. "Okay..." she mumbled, hanging her head. "I'm sorry for bothering you."

Levana said nothing.

"Is there anything that I can get you? Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate? Anything to eat?"

A moment of silence. "Hot chocolate, please," Levana said, barely above a whisper.

"Coming right up!" Akiho sped over to the door. "I'll be back in a sec."

Levana just sat there, listening to Akiho's lively humming down the corridor. Her gaze set on the glass clock that hung on the wall. She stared at the metal hands intently. Her eyes followed every movement of the one that ticked per second.

_Tick, tick, tick._

"Here you go!"

Levana jumped slightly as Akiho gently set down a cup of steaming liquid on the coffee table in front of her. The sweet smell of chocolate wafted up in small swirls. Levana could see little rings of cream at the top.

"Well?" Akiho cocked her head. "Aren't you going to drink it?"

"Later," Levana said. "It's too hot right now. A burnt tongue isn't very fun."

Akiho shrugged. "Suit yourself." She rolled away, humming merrily.

Hours passed. Levana had never even touched the cup of hot chocolate.

* * *

The snow melted, and the flowers came to bloom again, all of Luna seeming reborn. Springtime.

April, to be precise.

Artemisia was bursting with life, the city a living organism. Children ran about the streets, free from school for spring break. The buildings were once again decorated in anticipation of their Independence Day, when their first king, Cyprus Blackburn was crowned and Luna officially became it's own country. It was the moon's biggest celebration.

Levana was seven months pregnant by that point, her tiny figure constantly in pain from the strain of her large belly. She stayed in her room most of the time; she couldn't stand leaving, having to endure Evret following her around everywhere and Channary's constant abuse. There were some unavoidable things, though—meals as often as she dared, and the monthly ultrasounds and exams. She loathed the doctors and the nurses, who would look at her with pity and sadness. Their sympathy meant nothing to her. It felt unwelcome and invasive.

Every night, Levana would cry herself to sleep, wishing the pain and humiliation away. Every day, she would spend half of her time just sitting on her couch, staring at the wall. Morning sickness came in hard blows, sometimes forcing her to stay in bed for days on end.

For once, though, she wasn't hunched over the toilet or huddling in a ball, cursing the world to nothing. Laying on her back upon her lush chaise, she turned another page of the thick novel she was immersed in, telling the epic tale of a young boy on a pirate ship. Akiho stood by, quietly listening to music that played through her integrated net system.

"Levana?"

The princess looked up to see Sybil looming over her, holding two big parcels in her arms. "Ever heard of knocking?" she asked, her voice snide.

"I tried. You wouldn't answer."

Levana sat up and shrugged. "I was into my book," she said, running a finger over an open page. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to wish you a happy birthday," Sybil chirped, seating herself beside Levana.

The princess blinked. "Thank you. I didn't think that anyone remembered."

"I did!" Akiho shouted. "I sang to you and everything!"

"That's because it's programmed into your calendar."

Akiho huffed. "Which counts as my memory. So there. I remembered." She crossed her arms over her metal chest.

Sybil held out the two wrapped boxes in her arms. "For you," she said.

Levana looked at them warily.

"Go on, take them," Sybil insisted. "I promise, I didn't wrap bombs or exploding pies or anything."

Levana picked up the top one, a thick brick wrapped in royal blue. It took her a while to finally get to the gift itself.

"Oh, Sybil...it's wonderful," Levana breathed, holding up a heavy sketchbook. It had a pink cover laced with frothy ribbon, her name embroidered on the front. It must've been at least five hundred pages long. "Just what I needed, too. I ran out of space in my old one yesterday."

Sybil smiled. "I knew you'd like it."

The sketchbook came with several erasers and a whole bag of pencils. Levana pulled one out, holding it to her face. She sniffed. "I love the smell of pencils," she sighed. "It reminds me of trees."

Sybil held out the other box. "Come on, open the other one!"

Levana complied and picked up the second gift, wrapped in light pink paper and donned with purple ribbons. Sybil had obviously taken great care putting the whole thing together. She tore off the paper, revealing a stark white box. Lifting the lid, she peered inside.

The piece of cardboard fell out of her hand and onto the floor with a clatter. Trembling, Levana pulled out a pair of soft violet booties, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. Small enough to fit a baby.

The meagre amount of joy that she once had faded away to nothing.

"I thought that you might like something to get you started," Sybil said, gesturing to the box. "There's also a few dresses and pairs of socks in there."

Levana gripped the fabric of one of said dresses, the soft lace flimsy between her fingers. Her breath hitched. "How thoughtful," she mumbled.

"Well, you'll need clothes to dress her in once she's born," Sybil said sheepishly, picking at her fingernails.

"I guess..." Levana put the booties back in the box, her back hunching as much as it could over her belly. "Wait." She froze, and her brow furrowed. "How do you know it's a girl?"

Sybil laughed nervously. "Well...I kind of asked the doctor after your last ultrasound. I wanted to get things for the baby, so I had to know the gender."

"I thought those appointments were _confidential_," Levana hissed, her cheeks flushed with anger and frustration.

"I said that Her Majesty was concerned about it." Sybil lowered her head in contrition. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that it mattered so much to you. I've invaded your privacy."

"It doesn't matter." Levana sniffed. She closed the box and put it aside. "I've already been violated in every way possible. Don't apologize."

Sybil held her tongue, hunched over in shame. She stayed silent. What more could she have said?

Levana turned away.

"Oh, no, Levana...please don't turn your back on me. I know that you're upset. I _really_ am sorry, for breaking your trust and reminding you of the baby."

"_Trust_?" Levana snorted. "You honestly think that you've _ever_ had my trust? There's no person on this goddamn planet whom I can even tell a secret, yet alone put my trust in," she sneered.

"Levana..."

"Sybil, just stop. You're not doing any—aahh!" Levana gasped, suddenly convulsing. "Oh, Stars..."

"What? What is it?" Sybil asked concerned. She held her arms out, ready to help at any moment.

"It's nothing," Levana said, her breathing laboured. "Selene just kicked me really hard."

Sybil's fingers curled slowly. "Selene?"

"That's what I'm naming her." Levana threw her head back. "Too weird?"

"No," Akiho cut in. "It's really pretty. She'll be a little moon goddess."

Levana and Sybil both looked at her.

"What?" Akiho's sensor blinked. "I was tired of listening."

Levana smiled slightly. "I was wondering where you went. It's odd, since you _are _Akiho the chatterbox."

"The one and only."

Sybil chuckled. Levana rolled her eyes.

"So..." Sybil trailed off, twiddling her thumbs. "Do you want to maybe...do something?"

Levana blinked. "Like what?"

"Could you show me how you draw?" Sybil asked, leaning over with a glint of curiosity in her eye.

Levana hunched her shoulders. "Sure, if you want," she said softly. Reaching down, she grabbed the sketchbook from where it was resting upon the box that it came in, as well as one of the many pencils that came with it. It was already sharpened. She opened the book to the first page.

"What should I draw?" she asked.

"Ohhh, me!" Akiho shouted, waving her spindly arms in the air. "Draw me in a propeller hat. With flashy, oversized glasses."

Levana snorted. "Maybe something a little more..._subdued_?"

"How about the the Earth?" Sybil interjected.

"The Earth?"

"Yeah. I know how much you want to go there. Draw it how you see it from our sky."

Levana looked at her, seemingly in a daze. "Okay," she mumbled. As light as a feather, she traced the outline of a sphere on the page, taking great effort not to make it some oddly shaped oval. She traced the continents next, shading in the oceans and the land, somehow making the mountains, deserts and snowcaps stand out. Sybil sat by, mesmerized as Levana drew the whole thing from memory. She took an eraser and lightly made clouds, swirling with the wind. Stars came next, twinkling in the dark space that Levana shaded. A small stretch of twinkles and fog stretched out behind Earth—the Milky Way. Finally, she drew a small crescent, hiding behind the majestic planet. As Levana drew craters and shaded in lava lakes, Sybil came to realize that it was the moon.

"Luna could never compare to Earth's beauty," Levana whispered, snapping Sybil out of her thoughts. "It can only hide. The people of Luna, wether they like it or not, are completely dependant on the people of Earth."

Sybil frowned. "Not anymore. Before Cyprus Blackburn came to power, yes, but now, we are an independent nation."

Levana scoffed. "We aren't a _nation._ In order to be a nation, you have to be united." She carefully signed her initials down on the bottom-right corner of the page. "If you haven't noticed, Sybil, everyone here is constantly fighting. There is never any union or peace," she spat. "At least the Earthen try. If it weren't for my family's constant brainwashing of the people, we would probably have had at least twice as many wars as them. We would've driven our kingdom to the ground a long time ago."

Sybil opened her mouth, about to protest—but she suddenly stopped, as she realized the truth of Levana's words. She wanted to deny them. She wanted to say that she was proud of her country, proud to be Lunar.

All she said was, "you're right."

Levana set her pencil and eraser aside. "I am, aren't I?"

Sybil said nothing.

"Here." Levana handed her the sketchbook. Sybil took it, gazing at the finished drawing. "Do you like it?" the princess asked.

"Yeah," Sybil said, in awe. "It's amazing. I love the stars...so pretty..."

Levana smiled. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Sybil handed back the sketchbook. "Your art is wonderful."

"Would you like to see my other books?"

Sybil grinned. "I'd love to."

Levana pointed to her desk, one hand rubbing her belly absentmindedly. "Second drawer from the top. There are three in there, I think."

Sybil got up and went to find them. It was quite a task, considering the sheer amount of junk that made up Levana's desk drawers. Finally, after digging through countless candy wrappers and discarded homework assignments, she found the three sketchbooks at the bottom. She quickly went and sat back down.

Levana had dug back into her novel, oblivious to her surroundings. Sybil smiled. She was cute like that.

Finally taking her eyes off the princess, she opened the first sketchbook and was immediately blown away by the beauty of the drawings, of all the intricate details. There were some portraits, some sketches of the palace, and some drawings of space.

And there was one that nearly made her heart stop—but not in a good way.

It was incredibly dark. Levana had drawn herself naked, all scratched up and bloody, with her scars prominent and full of stitches. She was hanging from one of the many marble pillars that could be found in the palace, surrounded by rose thorns and flying crows. Rabid wolves bit at her feet, and the look on her face was one of pure terror, her eyes open wide—Sybil could even see the lines in her irises. Her mouth was a gaping maw, all teeth and bloody tongue. She seemed in such agony. The kind that no human being ever deserved to suffer, no matter how evil or cruel. Not even Channary deserved such a fate.

Sybil quickly shut the book, not able to bear another second with that face on her mind. She looked over to Levana, who was still off in her own world. She seemed so relaxed, so carefree. What else was she hiding behind her smile?

She gulped. How terrifying it must be, to see the world through Levana's eyes.


	26. Chapter 25

The girl was bound to a steel counter, wrists and ankles nearly broken from the vice of the cuffs. Her white skin was ripped up by the sharp metal, blood oozing down on the countertop. Surgery equipment lay neatly on a nearby table. She thrashed violently, scratching up her skin even more. She screamed loud, like she had never screamed before.

_Stop_ _yelling, sister. There is no one who will hear you._

A woman approached, wearing a pure white apron and a face mask over her mouth. Her golden hair was tied up in a neat bun, and she donned blue rubber gloves on her forearms. Even through the haze of light in her vision, the girl could see the woman's haunting brown eyes, gleaming. As if she might laugh.

"No..." she tried to say, but all that came out was a bloody dribble that ran down her chin.

_Now hold still. This will only take a second. _

The woman picked up a scalpel. She shook with fear as the woman touched her head and ran it through her ratty auburn hair. The girl flinched, a sob escaping her chapped lips. The blade came down under her eye and she shrieked as it dug into her skin, cutting a deep gash alongside her already existing scar.

The woman sneered. _Look at you. You're so ugly. And this is doing nothing to help._

She continued to cry as the woman gripped the flimsy cotton slip that covered her bruised body. With a flip of the wrist, she tore the fabric away, leaving her helpless victim completely naked. The girl looked at herself, ashamed of her scars, of her nudity. "Why...why are you doing this?" she managed to whimper.

The woman's eyes lit up, and the girl was sure that there was a smile beneath the mask. _I'm going to cut you up, and feed you to the wolves. I know how fond you are of them._

She whimpered even more as the woman's hand came down and touched her shoulder, her arms. The scalpel inched down, so agonizingly slowly, to her navel, as her hand groped the girl's breast, pinching much too hard.

_It hurts, doesn't it? Good. You deserve this. You deserve this. You deserve ALL of this._

She screamed as if a thousand rabid dogs were tearing her apart, limb for limb, as the woman stabbed the scalpel right into her stomach, ripping up her guts.

"NO, NO, NO! _STOP_!"

Levana awoke with a jolt to the sound of her own screams, piercing the silence of the night like needles through skin. Her eyes darted back and forth, looking for the woman, the scalpel—only to find that she was lying in her bed, safe in her room. The sheer curtains covering the glass door to her balcony billowed, letting in the soft evening light. Her sweat-soaked sheets were tangled around her neck, nearly choking her. She threw them back, gripping her ankles and wrists as if her life depended on it. There were no cuffs, no scratches.

But the pain was still there. It came thundering, her abdomen feeling like it was going to explode. A warm liquid ran down from between her legs, joining the sweat on the sheets. Levana sat up, her breath ragged and laboured. Another flash of pain nearly knocked her over—she could feel the muscles in her gut contracting in agony.

"God," Levana managed to say through wet gurgles, "_why are you doing this me_?"

"Levana?" Akiho asked with concern as she rolled over. "What's going on? Why are you screaming?"

The princess grit her teeth and clutched her belly as another wave of pain crippled her body. "I think...I think my water just broke," she whimpered.

Akiho's sensor flashed. "I don't compute."

"The baby, I...I think it's coming!" Levana hissed, somehow getting out of bed without falling flat on her face. "Stars, it hurts..."

The android immediately started to panic. "What can I do?! Should I comm the doctors?! Should I—"

"Just...just help me walk...I'll get help on my own," Levana said, wrapping her shoulders in a thin blanket. Akiho gently took her hand, guiding her towards the door. The android had stopped talking, but Levana knew that she was still freaking out by her jerky movements and flashing sensor. "Calm down, Akiho...I'm okay."

"No, you're most definitely not! Don't you know _anything_ about childbirth? It's going to hurt so badly, and you might even _die_!"

"No, it's fine..." Levana mumbled, limping alongside her. "This is nothing I can't handle. I've been through worse."

Slowly but surely, the two made their way down the halls toward the hospital ward. Levana was cursing internally the whole time. _Of_ _course, _her room was on the opposite side of the vast palace. It was just her luck.

Although it couldn't have been later than eight o'clock, there were no servants to be seen. It was to be expected on a Sunday night, when most of the palace staff had the day off.

"Why did it have to be _today_?" Levana whimpered, leaning against the wall for support. Akiho still held her hand. The android felt Levana squeeze her prongs, hard, her features contorted in pain.

"Another contraction?" she asked.

Levana looked down at her, biting her lip to keep from crying out. "They're coming even faster now."

"You need help, Levana—I'm comming Sybil."

Levana shook her head. "No, no, I can make it myself, I can—"

She was suddenly cut off as she collided with a woman walking towards her, sending them both to the ground. Levana yelped, one step away from falling flat on her stomach—instead, she rolled on her back, whimpering in pain.

"Damn it! Watch where you're going!" she heard the woman shout, her voice like nails on a chalkboard. Levana blinked quickly, trying to chase away the haze in her vision. Once she finally looked up, she was met with the same brown eyes as those in her dream, the terrifying orbs nailing her to the spot.

Channary rubbed her head, not seeming to notice her crying sister kneeling before her on all fours. Instead of the surgeon's uniform that she wore in Levana's nightmare, she donned one of her signature silk gowns, a form-fitting sheath that accentuated her curves and fell to her feet in a soft wisp. Her hair, instead of the bun, was in the usual braid that hung down her back.

"What the hell, Levana! Why are you tripping through the hallway like a blind mole?!" the queen sneered, straightening her low neckline.

"Channary, I..." Levana reached out with a shaking hand, her eyes big and watery. "I need to go to the hospital...the baby..."

Channary growled, rising to her feet in one swift move. "What do you mean, the—"

"It's coming," Levana gasped, clutching her belly. "I can...I can feel it moving..."

The queen blinked, putting her hands on her hips. "You're in labour, stupid," she snarled, her eyes narrowed.

"_No kidding_!" Levana cried, a few sobs escaping her lips as another sharp pain made its presence known.

"You're so _pathetic_! Get up!" Channary shouted, nearly about to kick her.

"Please..." Levana whimpered, gripping the hem of the queen's dress. "I need your help...it hurts so much..."

Channary sneered. "Get away from—"

"I BEG OF YOU, CHANNARY! JUST THIS ONCE, COULD YOU PLEASE JUST _HELP ME_?!" Levana cried, tears running down her cheeks as she trembled in fear.

The queen looked taken aback, and for the briefest of moments, Levana could've sworn that a flash of pity crossed Channary's face. Of course, in her delirious and terrified state, it was probably just her mind toying with her.

"Okay," Channary said calmly, coming down to Levana's height and holding her back so that she didn't fall. "I need you to calm down. I know that it hurts, but screaming like a lunatic isn't going to help. Now," Channary brushed her sister's bangs out of her face, "can you walk?"

"I think so," Levana whimpered, gripping the queen's hand as if it were a lifeline. Channary helped her up on her feet, one arm held out, and ready to catch her at any moment.

Akiho piped up. "Hey, I want to help too—"

"Just get out of my way, _rust bucket_," she sneered, pushing the android aside.

Channary was in no way a muscular woman, so she cringed a bit as she felt Levana's weight pulling her down, but she sucked it up and managed to lift the princess into her arms. Before Akiho could say another word, Channary broke out in a run, grateful that she decided to wear flats that morning instead of her usual stilettos.

They reached the cold, metallic doors of the hospital ward in no time. The queen was quite fast on her feet. By then, Levana's whimpers had turned into full-out sobs, the pain nearly unbearable. A plethora of nurses came forth, in obvious alarm and disarray. Through all the haze, Levana could hear Channary barking orders, the nurses rushing her in without question.

As she was handled again and again, Levana could feel her body contorting, as if a monstrous beast was trying to eat its way out of her womb. Agonized screams escaped her throat, wet gargles and small drops of spittle running down her lips. She felt someone laying her flat down on a bed, lifting up her legs and spreading them apart, revealing her genitals.

Levana screamed again, wriggling around and trying to kick the person who held her down. "No! What are you doing?! STOP!"

A midwife took her hand, brushing her sweaty bangs from her face. "This is part of the procedure, Your Highness. Just calm down."

A young doctor—no older than thirty—came in, her black hair tied in a sloppy ponytail. As she ordered the nurses around, she put on a face mask, not unlike the one in Levana's nightmare. As she came closer and met Levana's gaze, the princess screamed like she did in her dream, trying to escape the nurses' grip. She didn't see them, or the room around her. She didn't even see the doctor kneeling down.

All she saw was the woman from her dream. All she saw was Channary.

"Mia! Get the sedatives!" the doctor shouted, trying her best not to get kicked in the face.

"NO! I DON'T WANT ANY MORE OF YOUR DRUGS!"

"Princess, you'll feel much better if you take them—"

"I SAID _NO_!" Levana screamed, her throat feeling like it had been scratched raw.

A nurse—Mia, Levana presumed—came over with a tray of needles. "Doctor, should I give them to her?"

Levana felt the doctor's hand touch her legs. "No, don't bother." Her brow furrowed. "Levana, listen to me." She looked up to her. "I need you to start pushing at the next contraction."

"But it's way too early!"

"The baby is ready to make its appearance. If we wait any longer, you might lose it."

Levana shrieked as another contraction claimed her, and, doing as the doctor ordered, she pushed as hard as she could, the overwhelming agony enveloping her trembling body. Luckily, it knew what to do in this age-old process, because the princess didn't have the faintest idea.

"Again, Levana!"

She moaned. "I can't...it hurts too much..."

"You must. The harder you push, the sooner it's over."

Another contraction came and went. Levana arched off the bed, unable to think or see properly. The pain was making everything blurry, the world a kaleidoscope that only she could see. The doctor was unfazed throughout the whole thing, even as her gloves became stained with blood that dribbled on the floor.

Another masked nurse came to the princess' side, gripping one of her hands. "Levana, do you want me to—"

"JUST GET THE THING OUT OF ME!" Levana bellowed, her face soaked with tears.

"One more push..." the doctor said, her brow slightly shimmering with sweat.

Her entire body was taut as she gripped the sheets and pushed with all her might. With a moan, Levana finally felt the baby escape the confines of her womb, greeting the loud new reality with equally deafening cries. At the sound, many of the nurses and midwives came closer, staring in awe at the newborn child.

"Congratulations, Your Highness. It's a healthy baby girl," the doctor said, gently lifting the squirming creature, covered in blood and other fluids.

Still sobbing, Levana scrunched her nose in disgust and turned her head away. "I don't want to look at it," she whimpered, hugging her chest.

The doctor said nothing, instead calling over Mia and the other nurse, who gently cut the umbilical cord and took the baby away to clean her.

For a while, Levana just kept her eyes closed, dry heaves making her chest fall up and down. She made the best effort to block out the endless chatter of the medical staff and the baby's sharp wails.

"Your Highness?" a midwife said softly, calling the princess' attention to herself and the crying bundle in her arms. "Someone wants to see you."

She looked up to see the midwife holding the baby out to her, wrapped in a blue blanket. Levana said nothing—she just glared.

The midwife persisted. "She's probably hungry," she said, a sort of twinkle in her eye. The way she looked at the child and at her made a shiver run down Levana's spine.

"Fine," Levana whispered hoarsely, taking the infant in her arms. Anything to deter the eerie woman.

After much insisting that she was fine on her own, the midwife backed off and Levana finally took a good look at the baby. Her skin was bright pink, her cheeks dark red as she cried, but the instant she was placed in her mother's arms, she quieted, opening her eyes. They were just like Levana's, a dark onyx colour, and as she pulled back the blanket, she saw a small tuft of chestnut hair on the child's head.

Levana had expected a feeling of disgust so great that she would even go as far as dropping the baby on the ground, anything to be rid of her. Although she would never admit such a disgusting thought, there were many times, many nights, when Levana had secretly hoped that the child would be stillborn. Unfortunately, though, the little pest was nice and alive, whimpering and pulling at Levana's hair.

Instead of the disgust, however, she just felt drained. Physically and emotionally exhausted. She didn't even have it in her to hate the baby. She just _didn't care_.

"What are you going to name her, Your Highness?" the doctor asked suddenly, snapping the princess out of her thoughts. Beside her stood the creepy midwife, holding a netscreen—most likely with an electronic birth certificate already displayed.

Levana scowled. "Selene," she said as she pulled her long hair away from the baby's grip. "Princess Selene of Luna."

The midwife smiled as she typed in the information. Levana was about to narrow her eyes, but Selene started to cry again, her tiny hands pulling at the neckline of her mother's dress.

"It's time for her first meal," the doctor said, chuckling. Levana glared at her, quickly shutting her up. By then, most of the nurses had left, and the doctor called the rest of the midwives out to give Levana some privacy.

"Just call out if you need anything," the creepy midwife chirped, her long red hair twirling around her back as she strutted out the door.

Levana sighed, gently cradling Selene with one hand beneath her head, like she had been taught to do. Gingerly, she gripped the neckline of her bloody cotton slip and lowered it down, revealing her breast, engorged with milk. She guided Selene's mouth towards it, but was taken by surprise as the baby immediately latched on and began to suckle.

"A-Ah, be careful..." Levana whimpered, pulling Selene back ever so slightly. "Not too hard, Selene. You're hurting me."

Selene continued to feed, her tiny hands bunched into fists. Levana gently rubbed her back. She could feel herself drifting off to sleep, her eyelids drooping. Once Selene had finished, Levana wiped away the stray droplets of milk with her dress, setting the fabric back over her chest.

The baby settled in her arms, finally sated. With a tiny yawn, Selene closed her eyes, falling asleep within minutes. Levana sat back, her breathing laboured as she just stared at the clock in the far corner of the room. She too fell asleep after a while, as silent tears rolled down her cheeks, following the tracks of those shed before.

* * *

"Your Majesty, here is the document you requested," the red-haired midwife said breathlessly as she burst into Channary's study, holding a shimmering chip against her chest.

The queen smiled, her nimble fingers moving quickly as she undid her braid. "Thank you, Neomia. I trust that the certificate isn't signed?"

"Of course not, My Queen. Her Highness fell asleep immediately after giving birth, so I never got the chance to have her sign it." Neomia cocked her head slightly. "If I may be so bold, Your Majesty—why do you need Princess Selene's birth certificate, anyway?"

Channary spun her chair around from where she was sitting, hands folded in her lap. "That's for you and I to know, and no one else to ever find out," she said with a bright lilt to her voice.

Neomia's brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

The queen sighed. "I'm claiming Selene as my own. But no one else can know that."

"Is this because of your—"

"Yes, Neomia, it's precisely that," the queen sneered, rolling her eyes. Neomia was one of the few people alive who knew of her infertility, only having found out through sheer dumb luck.

The midwife's face lit up with comprehension. "So instead of going through the trouble of treatments, you're just going to claim Selene as your own daughter. That's quite clever, if I do say so myself, Your Majesty."

Channary pressed her lips into a thin line. "I'm glad that you think so," she said, unimpressed.

"And, on the plus side, you won't have to go through the pain of pregnancy and childbirth," the midwife continued. "I can tell you how much of a pain in the butt those are."

"I'm sure that it's not the least bit pleasant."

Neomia chuckled. "No, it's not at all." She shrugged. "But just one thing...how are you going to explain this to your sister? She's bound to find out eventually."

Channary's lips curled into a sickeningly sweet smile. "That's when I end her."

Neomia blinked. "End her? As in, _kill_ her?"

"Exactly right," Channary said. "How smart you are."

"Um...is that _really_ necessary, Your Majesty? I mean, I don't really care, but _killing_ your own sister? That seems a bit extreme."

Channary cocked her head, blonde waves cascading down her chest. "You _dare_ question me?"

Neomia clammed up. "No, of course not—"

The queen rolled her eyes, holding out her open palm. "Just give me the chip, Neomia. You're dismissed."

The midwife swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She gently placed the chip in Channary's palm. Nearly trembling with nerves, she bowed curtly before scurrying out of the room, desperate to escape the queen's wrath.

With a sigh, Channary spun around and quickly popped the chip into her computer's main drive, tapping her fingers impatiently on her desktop as the machine processed the information. Finally, the document popped up, bright and blaring on the screen.

Her eyes danced across the big, black letters that spelled _Certificate of Birth._


	27. Chapter 26

**—****BOOK FOUR****—**

_The younger sister let out a wicked laugh. "And now you shall never see your princess," she threw her tiara away, "or your sun."_

* * *

There was once a time when Channary believed in love.

Her idea of it was distorted and tainted, but it was love nonetheless. When her mother would gently brush her bangs from her brow, she felt affection. When her father would take her out around the city, stopping at the toy store and buying her a beautiful doll or a new portscreen, she felt cherished. When the court would fall to their knees before her, she felt adored. She believed that love was a game of give-or-take, that it always wanted something in return.

So it was no wonder that the man she fell in love with would demand the world from her.

All her previous lovers had simply been emotionless interactions. Channary only ever saw them as playthings, objects to warm her bed at night. More often than not, she would juggle a few at a time, none of them aware that they were taking turns pleasuring the same woman. Channary soon became notorious for her promiscuity, even more so than her mother. Much to the queen's dismay, though, she refused to take on a husband. Channary never saw the point.

"Channary, dear, I really think that you should start considering marriage. You need _someone_ to continue the bloodline," Jannali would say, almost always with a book open on her lap.

"Mother, your marriage was a purely political arrangement. I can rule fine without a man at my side," Channary would respond, her voice full of its typical snark. "Besides, children are nothing but a bother. Look at what raising two of them has done to you."

Jannali would then frown and send Channary away with a boot to the butt, effectively ending the conversation.

Her mother wouldn't relent on the subject of marriage. Her father wouldn't stop being at her heels about her studies, making her learn eight languages fluently and math at the level of a physicist—so much so that Channary grew to hate school and learning. Whenever she could, she would escape to the conservatory and play on her beloved flute for hours, or maybe the piano. Her favourite language was that of song.

At twenty, the crown princess was quite detached from her parents and childhood, wanting to throw away the years of being powerless, of having her father correct her every two minutes and her mother constantly critique her fashion choices. She wanted them out of her hair, to let go of their little girl and let her be an adult.

Alexander was the first to treat her as such. He was one of Channary's many suitors, and the only one who didn't shower her in compliments or promise her the world. Only polite, never devoted. Channary instantly wanted him, just to know that she could have him, the one who had dared to say 'no'. She was the master of seduction, and she played him hard. It hardly took a week before she had lured him into her bed.

Still, Alexander was not a little dog that Channary could order around. He was just as rough with her as she was with him, never succumbing to her demands. Jannali immediately grew suspicious. She didn't know what it was—the way he held himself, the way he spoke, maybe—but she didn't trust him in the slightest. The queen often expressed her distaste for her daughter's lover, but Channary wouldn't have any of it. Marrok would just stand by, silent.

As weeks turned into months, Channary just grew even more infatuated with Alexander. She stopped seeing all of her other little playthings, determined to stay faithful to him. She even started to accept the idea of marriage. Every day, a lifetime with him just grew more and more tempting. She would fantasize about her wedding day, being the blushing bride, all in white, as he took her as wife. The thought of it all would always put her in a giddy mood.

Channary's sudden and inexplicable happiness perplexed all of the palace staff. Attending to her no longer seemed like death to the maids. The chefs would stare at each other, confused, as Channary would twirl around the kitchens, complimenting every dish that she sampled.

But to no one was this more puzzling than to Levana. She was barely fifteen and, having no experience whatsoever with the illogical workings of infatuation, was naturally confused at her sister's incredibly bizarre behaviour. Channary, in her giddiness and glee, would actually treat her with a certain amount of respect, even striking up pleasant conversations. Levana had never met Alexander. She had never known that her sister, the cruellest person she could think of, had fallen in love. The poor girl was spun around in circles by Channary's newfound personality.

But even through the whirlwind romance and possibility of marriage, there was one thing that Channary knew without a doubt—Alexander wanted children. Oftentimes, when they were lying together at night, he would go off talking about their future, about the family that he wanted to have with her. He would talk about how much he loved the sound of children's laughter and little feet running around the house.

Channary herself would often indulge in such fantasies, imagining a perfect little child, with her brown eyes and his brown hair. The child's skin would be white as snow. It didn't matter to her whether it was a girl or a boy.

As time passed, the princess grew more and more anxious. Alexander had never popped the question, despite their talks of married life and the grand celebration they would have. It was more than obvious that he was waiting for something, for a reason to propose. Channary did everything she could to get pregnant, from laying off the birth control to counting through her cycle—but all her attempts were in vain. The test results were always negative. Her womb was always void of life.

She didn't dare tell Alexander, though. Knowing how much having children meant to him, she lied and said she _was_ pregnant, fiddling with the test needle to make it positive. That alone seemed to fool him. In the meantime, she told her gynecologist about her…issues, and the doctor quickly came to a diagnosis.

Infertility.

The very word made Channary's small heart shatter into a million pieces. Her genetics, her _condition_, had taken away her ability to have children. The very same thing that gave her incredible power, the same thing that caused her strong glamour, had also rendered her barren. An eye for an eye, as the old earthen saying went.

How could she ever tell him?

It had taken her two weeks to muster up the courage to confront her lover, afraid of his reaction, afraid of rejection. Afraid that he wouldn't love her anymore. She had not yet told her parents, and honestly, she didn't think she could. Her mother would explode, she was sure. _How are you going to continue the bloodline now?_

After dinner one night, Channary took Alexander back to her chambers, intent on telling him. He had his hand on her waist, rubbing her hips—he obviously wanted affection. But it was going to have to wait.

"Please, stop touching me. I have to talk to you," Channary said, sitting down on her bed.

Alexander sat down beside her, holding her hand. "Oh, come on, darling. What's so important that we can't have a little fun first?"

Channary sighed, looking down at her feet. She put a hand on her belly, clutching the fabric of her dress. "It's…about the baby."

Alexander's eyes widened. "What is it? Has something gone wrong?"

"No…not exactly…"

"Well what, then?" he asked, expectant.

Channary took a deep breath, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She was sure that her cheeks were flushed red. "There…there is no baby," she finally managed to say, her lip quivering. She was on the verge of tears as she buried her head in her hands.

Alexander's hand slowly left her side as he stared at her, appalled. "What do you mean, _no baby_? Did you have a miscarriage?"

"There was never one to begin with. I lied." Channary looked up at him, his expression upsetting her even more. "I'm so sorry, Alexander, I just didn't know what else to tell you! I was afraid that you'd leave me if I told you I couldn't have—"

"Wait," Alexander interjected, his voice soft and stern. "You lied this whole time?"

Channary nodded, her shoulders quaking. "Yes, I'm so—"

"But _why_?" he asked, incredulous.

"Because I…" she sniffed, "I can't…"

Alexander blinked, his jaw tensing.

"I can't get pregnant," Channary sobbed, holding herself as if she were going to fall apart. "I'm infertile. I can't have children."

Alexander just sat there beside her, his expression jumping from shock to confusion. "So…we can't have a family," he accused, his tone bitter.

Channary sniffed, wiping the tears from her eyes. A bit of eyeliner smudged on the back of her hand. "Well, not with children of our own…but we can always adopt," she said, fiddling with the ends of her hair. "We can still get married. This doesn't have to change anything. I just feel so bad, because I know how much you want kids…"

A flash of anger crossed his features, but Channary was too flustered to notice. "But…we agreed that we would have children. That we would rule together. How can I be a king without heirs?" he snapped, his gentle façade slowly slipping away.

"Alexander, please try to understand...I can't give you everything you want," Channary said, gripping his hand tightly. She looked at him with the biggest eyes that she could manage, in her best attempts to look sweet and innocent. "But I can still give you what you need. I can please you, I can love you..."

Alexander put a finger to her lips, effectively making her words die off. He placed a hand on the side of her head, brushing a back a lock of her hair. "Really, Channary?" he whispered against the crook of her neck, the warmth of his breath making goosebumps rise on her skin.

Channary sighed, leaning onto him. "You're not angry?"

"Of course not."

The princess smiled. "Alexander..."

A shriek escaped her lips as she felt him grab her arms roughly, spinning her around and pinning her down on the bed. Channary squirmed, trying to escape his grip, her screams muffled by the pillow pressed into her face. "I'm not angry," Alexander growled, suddenly grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling so hard that he nearly ripped it out. "I'm _furious._"

Channary felt fear roiling in her stomach, rising up like steam to her throat and coming out in choked sobs. Alexander's grip tightened on her left arm. He continued to bend it back, forcing it into positions that it was never meant to be in, until the very distinct snap of bones echoed throughout the room.

She screamed even louder, thrashing violently under his weight. The pain was bewildering, bringing tears to her eyes. Alexander laughed, a harsh sound that had once been music to Channary's ears, but now were like the demonic cackles that she would sometimes hear inside the spiked closet, when her mother would lock her in there for hours on end.

"Does that hurt, my dear?" Alexander asked, twisting her hair around his fingers. "I hope it does, I really do..." he cooed, digging his palms into her shoulders, as if he were giving her a massage.

"Why..." Channary managed to gasp, before he pressed her head down once again.

"You foolish girl..." he cackled. "All I want from you is the one thing you can't give. And I don't love you. Never have."

Channary whimpered, trying to move her broken arm away from him. Alexander quickly grabbed it, pinching her skin. A guttural moan escaped her, and had she not been silenced and nearly choking, the sound would've alerted the whole palace of her distress.

"From day one, you've been on my nerves. You're so clingy and needy," he spat, digging his nails deeper into her flesh. "But I put up with you, because who wouldn't want to be in my shoes? Husband to the future queen, lover to one of the most beautiful women on Luna...it was just too good to pass up."

Alexander let go of her broken arm, letting it bounce off the bed. He smiled as she whimpered again. His hands first touched her neck, and then her shoulders...until he reached around, enveloping her in some sort of hug. Channary sobbed as she felt him grope her breasts, pinching so hard that she was sure that her skin would be bruised.

"But if you can't bear my children...what's the point? Isn't that the purpose of marriage?" he mumbled, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "You have such a nice body...but it's not worth having to be stuck with you for the rest of my life. There are plenty of other beautiful women out there who are much, _much_ more tolerable than you, _Your Highness._"

Channary tried, weakly, to reach out to his mind. The familiar glimmer of bioelectricity radiating around him was to her like a comfort blanket is to a child. With the little strength she had left, she twisted it, as much as she could.

_Let go of me. Let go of me. Let go of_ _me!_

Alexander smirked. "I don't think so, _darling_."

The princess let out a wet gurgle as he gripped her throat, cutting off her airway. The dizziness and fear rendered her power useless as she just lay there, trapped. Alexander let go just as she began to choke, and Channary took in a lungful of air, her body shaking.

"Now, I think I'll take you one last time…" Alexander mumbled, leering at her body. Channary whimpered. He pushed her face back into the pillow as a response.

Channary cried into the pillowcase as she felt him tearing off her dress, touching her where she no longer wanted to be touched. Before, when he had done that, she had begged for more—but now, it made her sick. Never had she felt so weak. Never had she felt so vulnerable.

Her body felt on fire as he took her from behind, the one place that Channary had never let him touch before. She screamed into the pillow, the pain in her arm and her loins nearly knocking her out—but the mercy of unconsciousness wouldn't come. She could feel every rub on her skin, every uninvited kiss on her neck and shoulders.

He didn't take nearly as long as she expected, for which she was thankful. His breathing was heavy as he pulled away, flinging her tattered gown over her body.

"Get dressed, _wench_," he sneered.

Channary whimpered, the pain having nearly paralysed her. Her left arm lay mangled beside her, the bone in the middle rising up and nearly tearing out of the skin. She shuddered as Alexander's fingers brushed her hair back, turning her head to make her look at him.

"It was fun while it lasted, darling, but I'm afraid that I must take my leave," he said, his voice low and husky. "Good night, _Princess_."

Alexander then walked away, as if nothing ever happened, closing the bedroom door gently behind her. Channary continued to sob, in pain. Her arm burned and throbbed, as did her lower half. Her voice was hoarse, her breathing laboured. She couldn't manage a scream, a cry, or even a call for help.

She just lay draped across her bed, silently pleading that a maid or a guard or _someone_ would walk in on her and take her to the hospital. Twenty minutes went by, and not a footstep could be heard outside. Channary's panic continued to rage in her mind as her arm bruised even more, a hideous black and blue. If she didn't get help soon, she could lose it, and the thought seemed worse than death—if she lost it, than it would be replaced with metal. And never could Channary go on about the rest of her days as a cyborg. Never could she stand to be like Levana.

Hauling herself up with her good arm, she managed to grab the sleek portscreen resting on her bedside table, beside the lit candle. Her eyes darted across the screen as it lit up, the bright colours making her see double. She managed to send out a comm to her father, hoping, _praying_ that he was on one of his netscreens. That he would receive her comm and come to her aid. In the meantime, she also slipped on, with much effort, a robe that she had flung on the floor earlier.

Sure enough, after a few minutes, she heard heavy footsteps approaching her room, and hope warmed in her chest. The door creaked open. "Channary, dear?"

The princess glanced over at her father peering in, his voice soft and concerned, for a change.

"Daddy," she whimpered, "Please, help me…"

Marrok's eyes widened at the sight of his daughter, curled up on her bed with a broken arm and nearly naked, nothing but a thin robe covering her bruised body. Channary began to cry again, the pain flaring up in her arm once more.

The king raced over to her, flooded with worry. "What happened to you? _Who did this_?!"

Channary whimpered. "Alexander. He…broke my arm and…"

Marrok cut her off, putting a hand to her forehead. "He did this?" the king hissed. "He hurt you like this?!" His voice grew louder, from barking to outright shouting. Channary flinched, more tears running down her flushed cheeks.

"Please, Daddy, don't shout…it hurts my ears…"

Marrok growled, forcing himself to breathe, to calm down. He lightly touched the princess' arm, making her flinch. "Relax, dear. This might hurt a little."

Channary hissed in pain as he picked up the fractured limb, taking in the break. The many gasps and looks of horror that crossed his face made her even more uneasy. "Is it really bad?" she mumbled, trying to hold back cries.

Marrok took in a sharp breath. "You'll definitely need surgery to put the bone back in place," he said, furrowing his brow. "Did he do anything else? Did he assault you?"

Channary nodded, biting her lower lip in agony.

The king cursed, anger making his blood boil. "Can you walk?" he asked, holding her upright.

"Yes," she said, holding out her good hand. Marrok helped her to her feet. She wobbled, cringing as the pain from down below burned through her body.

Channary didn't even make the trip to the hospital—within minutes, she was out cold. Marrok immediately called for nurses, who helped him take her to the hospital ward. He made the upmost effort to avoid running into his wife, whom he knew would be in hysterics.

Indeed, she was. As soon as Jannali found out, she kicked and screamed, swearing like a fiend. "I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU! MARROK, I _TOLD YOU_ THAT THIS WOULD HAPPEN!" the queen shrieked, slight flecks of spittle flying from her lips.

"Jannali, calm down, you're—"

She cut him off by throwing a lamp at him, barely missing him by a hair as he ducked down, falling to his knees. The glass light shattered on contact, showering him in bits of crystal. "SHUT UP! I TOLD YOU THAT THE MONSTER WOULD HURT HER, AND WHAT DID YOU DO?! ABSOLUTELY _NOTHING_!"

The king sighed as he stood, brushing his hands clean on his red jacket. His head pounded with a migraine. "Dear, I know that you're upset, and believe me, I'm just as angry as you are. But let's concentrate on the matter at hand—our daughter has been injured and raped. We should concentrate on healing her before going after her assailant."

Jannali's whole body shook with rage. "Send a few thaumaturges to kill him, then."

"I think that we should let _Channary_ decide his fate," Marrok said, shaking the glass shards out of his hair.

Jannali left, stomping and muttering under her breath. She locked herself in their bedroom—a habit of hers. She often needed time to vent. Marrok had never walked in on one of her…_decompressions, _so what she did during that time was a complete mystery to him. He made himself scarce that night, instead staying by his daughter's bedside. The surgery had taken a few hours, after which the doctors had casted her arm and ran tests, to see whether or not she had an infection. Marrok stayed and watched as she slept, doped up on drugs.

* * *

Levana could sense the tension in the air, making her skittish and nervous. She had hidden herself away at her mother's very first shriek, like a deer would hide itself from a hunter. No need to get caught in the middle of the queen's fury. Malissa had also sensed this, and joined the princess in her quarters for a quiet game of chess.

The next morning, Channary awoke to bright lights blaring down at her, the sharp scent of antiseptic attacking her nose. She was alone, much to her relief. In her drugged and messed up state, she knew that she would die of embarrassment if any nurses walked in on her. She glanced around the room, the furniture white and sterile. The clock on the far wall ticked at a regular pace, like it should. After a few minutes of listening to it, Channary wanted to throw it out a window.

A sharp pain made her wince as she sat herself upright. Looking down, she saw her injured arm encased in a pristine white cast, leaving only the ends of her fingers free to move. Memories of the previous night came flooding back, and she clenched her fingers around the hard plaster. An ache made itself known in her backside, and she let out a whimper, that soon turned into full-out crying. She sobbed and sobbed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. The heaving of her chest hurt her injured arm as it bounced, but she was too upset to care.

A soft, meek voice—that of a girl—cut through her ragged cries. "Channary?"

The crown princess hiccuped, sure that her nose was red and stuffy from crying. She didn't dare move.

"Channary? It's me, Levana," the voice said. Channary could hear footsteps as the girl walked closer.

Her body began to tremble. Her teeth clenched. "What do you want?" she sneered, her voice raspy.

"I heard that you got hurt." Levana blinked, hunching her shoulders, "So I came to see if you were okay."

Channary's nostrils flared, no matter how hard she pinched her nose. She remained silent, trying to calm herself.

"I drew this for you," Levana said, holding out a wooden frame.

Peering up from over her hand, Channary tried to focus on the drawing, and not Levana's face. She couldn't stand to see her sister's doe-eyed expression now.

Levana smiled shyly. "Do you like it? It took me hours to do."

Channary sniffed and held out her good hand. Levana's smile widened—Channary usually never even gave her drawings a second glance. Excited, she gently handed the frame to her, so to not hit her cast.

The crown princess sighed, sitting upright as she struggled to focus her vision. The world around her was so hazy that she had to squint to see clearly. Within the frame, on a sheet of paper, was a drawing of Levana and herself, gazing at Artemisia, its splendour captured flawlessly in colour. She recognized every building, from the train station to the tall skyscrapers where the wealthiest people resided.

A lump caught in Channary's throat. She couldn't help but look away, anything to avoid showing emotion. She felt her cheeks flame, and her tears threatened to escape once again. Her weakness embarrassed her, more than rape ever could. It wasn't right. It should've been Levana in that bed, with Channary looming over her, mocking her for being pathetic. Not the other way around.

But even then, Levana didn't mock her. Even as Channary lay there, helpless. For once, the tables were turned. Levana had the power to do anything she wanted to her sister. She could strike her, torture her, get back at her for all the crimes that Channary had committed against her. But all Levana did was look at her, full of pity. She had taken the time to make her sister a gift, naïvely thinking that it would make her feel better. Her kindness nearly made Channary sick.

Levana, concerned now, put a gloved hand on her sister's shoulder. "Are you alright? Does your arm hurt?"

Channary growled, swatting her younger sister's hand away. Rage roiled in her belly where a child should've been, and her fiery gaze hovered over Levana, her face, her body, her shadow. She hated her, from her childish freckles to her frail figure. She hated her innocence, her happiness. Mere words could not describe how much Channary completely and utterly _despised _her.

Levana backed away, offset by Channary's sudden aggression. The crown princess nearly laughed. If Levana thought that she was getting any kind of approval or praise, she was sorely mistaken. Channary would never give her that satisfaction.

"Just get out of here," she hissed.

"But I—"

"Did I _stutter_?" Channary spat, dropping the frame on the floor. Levana cried out as the glass shattered, but Channary pushed her back as hard as she could. Levana toppled over, landing on the hard tile. "GET OUT!" Channary shrieked, cringing in pain.

Levana jumped, her eyes wide. A little gasp of fear escaped her, and she quickly got to her feet, scampering out of the room. Channary nearly choked on her sobs, gasping and wheezing for air, as if she were being squeezed to death by a deadly snake.

A nurse that stood in the doorway cleared her throat. She had clearly witnessed the whole exchange. "Your Highness?"

Channary's head whipped around at breakneck speed, her eyes blazing.

The nurse stepped back, slightly deterred by the princess' glare. "It's time for your sedatives, Milady," she said.

Channary blinked. "I don't need any _sedatives_," she sneered.

"That's not what the doctor says." The nurse put a hand on her hip. Channary eyed her as she made her way across her room to where the chemicals and medicine were stored, filling a needle with clear liquid from a small glass jar. "Just one little shot and you'll feel much better, I promise."

She glanced around the room, lingering on the shattered glass of the frame littered on the tile.

"Should I send for a maid to clean up this mess?" the nurse asked, raising an eyebrow.

Channary followed her gaze down to the pile of glass. Her lips curled into a particularly unpleasant sneer. "Have her throw both the frame and the paper in the incinerator."

The nurse flicked the needle with her finger. "Will do. In the meantime, I'll give you your shots," she said.

"I _told_ you, I don't—" Channary started, but was cut off as the nurse plunged the needle into the crook of her elbow, pressing down on the plunger. Her voice died into a harsh rasp, and her eyelids drooped.

"There, there, Your Highness. Calm down. Your parents shall be here soon, and when you come to, they'll take you back to your room to rest. Would you like that?"

Channary's entire body had gone lax, a feeble moan being he only response that she gave.

* * *

When Channary eventually did come to, her parents didn't let her rest. Instead, they immediately bombarded her with questions in the warmth of the king's study. She sat on the couch, slumping back with her arm in a sling.

Marrok looked less than impressed, his eyes dull and heavy from lack of sleep. Her mother, even in her dishevelled state, still managed to look like a goddess, although Channary could tell that the queen's face held a slight weariness brought forth both by stress and age. Jannali's arms were crossed over her chest, and she tapped her foot impatiently.

"Well, Channary? What do you have to say for yourself?" she barked, her onyx eyes void of their usual lively spark.

The princess looked away, shame and resentment settling in her chest like heavy stones. "I thought that he was different," she mumbled.

"I warned you, I _told_ you that he was trouble! But did you listen to me?" When Channary didn't answer, Jannali continued on, "No. I thought that had I raised you to be a bit smarter than that."

Channary huffed, tears of frustration pricking the back of her eyes. "Well, maybe you were _wrong_ for once! You never let me do anything on a whim, and I just…I wanted to make my own decisions."

"Well, look where that got you! Your own decisions, my ass—when I tell you something, you listen! But me, I'm just your _mother_, what do I know?" Jannali waved a hand through the air, her fingers dipping gracefully despite her anger.

The princess' cheeks burned, and she grit her teeth. "Why are rubbing this in? Aren't you going to after him?!" she barked.

The king's eyes narrowed. "Watch your tone," he said, placing his palms flat on the desk before him.

Channary groaned, throwing her head back. "This is so not _fair_!" she whined.

"I don't care if it's _not_ _fair,_" Marrok said, his gaze as sharp as needles.

"But, while we're on the subject of arresting him," Jannali cut in, "We wanted your input."

The king nodded in agreement. "Yes. Since you're so adamant to make _your own_ decisions, you get to say how he dies." A cruel smile made its way from his eyes to his face. "You'll be his executioner."

Channary peered up at him through her bangs, picking at her cast. "Really?"

"Leave your cast alone, dear," Jannali said.

The princess moved her hand away, furrowing her brow.

"So? What do you want to do?" Marrok asked.

Channary stayed silent for a moment, running through all the possibilities in her head. All the ways that she could end the man who dared say 'no'.

"Have him brought to me," was all she said, her good hand bunched in a fist.

It had taken a couple days to find Alexander, who had the common sense to leave Artemisia after the ordeal, cutting out his ID chip and leaving it, all bloody, on his kitchen counter. Eventually, the three thaumaturges in charge of his search found him hiding out in Elathia, on the other side of the moon. They brought him to the palace, tied up and gagged.

Before he knew it, he was confined in a small room within the bowels of the palace, his jaw bruised and his wrists slit. The three royals—Channary, her mother and her father—came in, silently, like spectres. The cast on Channary's arm came as no surprise to him, although he didn't expect her to face him directly. Rather, he thought that she would go and pout and sulk like the little brat that she was.

Now, though, most of his pride and pomp had vanished, replaced by undeniable fear, the coward. Channary herself didn't really scare him, but the murderous, bloodthirsty looks of the king and queen sure did.

"Alexander Wilkes," King Marrok said, his voice low and threatening. He stood before Alexander, like the devil about to take his soul on judgement day. "If I hadn't promised my daughter that I would let _her_ have her way with you, I would tear you apart limb from limb."

"And _I_ would rip away every muscle, every _tendon_ from your bones," Jannali added, her voice light, yet seeping with menace.

Alexander focused his gaze on the princess, trying to block out her snarling parents. "You couldn't stay away from me, could you, darling?" he croaked.

Channary's eyes flashed, and her features contorted with rage to the point of being grotesque. "Shut up," she spat.

The king stepped forward and slapped him, hard. "If I didn't know any better, I'd almost think you believed yourself to be above the law," he sneered, his eyes blazing. He raised his arm to punch him, and Alexander flinched.

"Marrok."

Marrok's head snapped around, his gaze searing through his wife's form. She stood with her hands on her hips, the anger on her face not dispelling her uncanny beauty, but rather enhancing it.

The king let out a soft, low growl, backing away from the trembling man. Not of his own volition, though—his wife had grabbed hold of his mind, coaxing him back gently to her side.

"Leave him be," Jannali said, lightly brushing her fingers on her husband's arm. Then, she turned to her daughter, who stood frozen, white as a sheet. Gently, the queen pulled out a dagger inlaid with gleaming rubies from the sheath around her waist. She held the silver weapon flat on her palm, standing tall and poised, like a statue. "So, have you learned your lesson, Channary?"

Channary's exposed fingers curled around her hard cast. "Yes, mother," she whispered, her head lowered in shame.

"Would you like to kill him yourself, or should I do it for you?" Jannali inquired, arching a slender eyebrow.

The princess muttered something incoherent under breath, snatching the dagger with her good hand. Jannali smirked. As soon as Channary took a step away, the queen let go of her husband's mind, instead holding him back with one arm draped over his shoulders. Marrok's nostrils flared, his fury desperate to be unleashed.

"Let her go, Marrok. She doesn't need your help."

Marrok's lips pressed into a thin line, waiting impatiently for what was about to unfold. Channary slid across the room's stone floor like a viper poised to attack its prey, the dagger in hand. Alexander looked at her with wide eyes, his blood iced in fear.

Channary sneered. "Goodbye, _my love_," she spat as she delivered the first blow, a stab straight into his chest.

Both the king and queen stared straight ahead, their eyes intently watching Channary's every move. Marrok's otherwise unmoving lips curled into a sadistic smile as Channary stabbed Alexander, once, twice, until his wet screams turned into nothing but quiet sobs. After a minute, the only sound to be heard was the squelching sound of blood on Channary's shoes as she walked back over to where her parents stood, her white gown and cast completely soaked in red.

Jannali clapped her hands and squealed in girlish glee. Channary dropped the dagger at the queen's feet, not once breaking eye contact.

"It looks like we'll have to replace your cast," Marrok said, lightly pressing a finger into the soggy plaster.

Channary snarled. "I...don't..._care..._" she whispered, her breath ragged.

"Do you feel better, now that you've gotten your revenge?" Jannali inquired, a few giggles escaping her here and there.

Channary looked around for a moment, asking herself the question. Did her rapist's blood on her hands really make her feel any better? Did it give her any sense of closure?

"Yes." Channary let out a roar of laughter, a sadistic, animalistic cackle—the opposite of her usual girly laugh. "I feel much, _much_ better."


	28. Chapter 27

Levana was going insane.

She was sure of it, by the way her head pounded at the slightest noise, by how there always seemed to be ghosts lurking behind her furniture, watching her every move. Selene's sharp wails didn't help either, keeping a good part of the palace awake.

With a groan, Levana slipped out of bed and trudged to the nursery across the hall, her bare feet slapping on the cold tile. Inside, she found the newly-appointed nanny cradling Selene in her arms, obviously distressed. Her brow shimmered with a sheen of sweat. She had a look akin to fear on her face at the sight of Levana at the door, whose expression was hard as stone.

"I'm so sorry, Your Highness, she just won't calm down…I'm trying my best, I assure you—"

Levana cut her off. "Just give her to me. You're dismissed," she said flatly.

The nanny nodded, gently handing over the screaming infant. Levana took her daughter, swaddled in a blanket, her tiny hands bunched into fists as she cried.

"Thank you, Princess." The nanny dipped into a curtsey. Then, as if she were running for dear life, she grabbed her day bag and left as quickly as she could, closing the door loudly behind her.

Levana looked over to where the nanny had just been, weary. Her eyelids felt heavy and sticky as she blinked. Selene continued to whimper, clutching Levana's auburn tangles.

"Ow! Selene," Levana cried, pulling her hair away from the baby's grasp and flipping it over her shoulder. "What is with you and the hair?"

Selene looked up at her mother, onyx eyes gleaming with tears and cheeks flushed red. Levana grumbled softly as she hobbled over to the rocking chair, slumping down with a sigh of relief. She rocked the child gently, back and forth. "What's wrong, Selene? What do you need?"

The baby flinched at the cold touch of Levana's metal hand.

Levana frowned, running her finger over the child's cheek. "You don't like my hand?" she muttered. "Don't worry—no one does."

Selene whimpered, gripping her mother's finger. Levana pulled away and threw her head back against the chair, closing her eyes. "Why won't you go to sleep..." she sighed, her stomach churning.

Just looking at the baby was a blow to Levana's sanity, reminding her every time of that night, the night when she had lost everything. It didn't help that Selene looked a great deal like her father, with her tan skin and almond-shaped eyes. If they had been the same brown as his, Levana knew that it would drive her completely mad, if she wasn't already.

The child continued to squirm in her mother's grasp, but she had stopped crying, for which Levana was grateful. Gently rubbing Selene's back, she hummed softly, staring out at the Earth through the window.

"Still awake at this hour, Your Highness?"

Levana froze at the voice, her arms tensing around the wriggling baby. She heard light footsteps approaching from behind the chair.

"Don't feel like talking to me, huh?" the voice spoke again, deep and husky, making the hair prickle on the back of her neck. "I could've sworn that you were still holed up in your room."

An icy chill froze Levana's blood, her stomach churning even more. "Wha…what do you want?" she said, her voice wavering.

A small gasp escaped her as she felt a warm hand squeeze her shoulder, gently at first, but pressing harder and harder until she winced in pain. "I have to say," the voice cooed, "that I never would've expected you to have such an _appendage__…_a little accident, I suppose?"

Tears of shame and embarrassment pooled in her eyes. "Get out of here," she said, trembling. Her metal hand slipped under Selene's squirming body, hiding it from the man's view.

"I just came to say goodbye; I'm leaving for the night." The man spun her chair around, making her face him. "I have to admit, I've quite enjoyed the pleasure of your company over the past months."

Levana flinched under Evret's stare. "Please, just go away…" she said, tears pooling in her eyes.

Evret smirked, leaning closer to her, burying his head in the crook of her neck. Levana shivered at the feeling of his warm breath on her skin. "Come on now, aren't you going to say goodbye?"

The child in Levana's arms was the only thing keeping her from screaming her head off and clawing the smirk off his face. She started to sob as he gently kissed her cheek.

"Don't touch me, please…this makes me feel so…so _dirty_," she whimpered, big, wet crocodile tears dripping down her chin and spotting the fabric of her nightgown.

Evret gently ran a finger down her cheek, catching one of her tears and tasting it on his lips. "You're so sweet," he cooed, pulling away. He then tore his gaze from Levana, instead focusing on Selene, who was quickly dozing off. "She's…really cute," he said.

Levana shook her head, sniffling. "Just. Go. Away."

The guard frowned, standing tall and clasping his hands behind his back. "How heartless you are," he said, his voice low and threatening, making fear settle in her stomach. "Refusing a smitten man, and then treating him like this?" He clucked his tongue.

"You're a _creep,_" Levana spat, holding Selene to her breast, feeling oddly protective.

"But alas," Evret continued, "I'm afraid that I must go home. My shift as your personal guard is over. It's a shame, really."

"_Get out_," Levana said again, for what had to be the tenth time.

Evret clucked his tongue, gliding across the room like a snake. "If you want to be difficult, then fine." He stopped at the door, gripping the glittering metal frame. "Farewell, Your Highness. Take good care of my daughter."

"She's not your daughter," Levana sneered, baring her teeth, "she's _mine_."

The guard raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because I distinctly remember you insisting that the _thing_ didn't have anything to do with you." He grinned at her dumbstruck reaction. "You should really pay attention to what you say."

With that, he gently closed the door, leaving no evidence of his presence behind other than the feeling of disgust and shame that plagued Levana's mind, making her neck and cheeks burn where his lips had touched her.

* * *

Selene let out a whimper as she fell back once again, landing on her rear. The infant had spent the last fifteen minutes trying to stand and move forward on her own—trying to take her first steps.

Levana watched with slight amusement from where she sat on the floor, fiddling with an old video game console from the second era. She had managed to get her tools back; after two years, Channary had loosened up and allowed her more freedom, confident that she wouldn't resort to suicide again. The ancient device in her hand had two glass screens that had yet to turn on, with buttons arranged carefully around them. Beside her sat a bucket full of cords and wires, and she compared adaptor upon adaptor, trying to find a match.

Selene began to fuss, clutching a cloth doll in her fists. She bunched its face, her lip quivering.

"What's wrong, Selene?" Levana asked.

The one-year-old threw the doll on the floor, waving her arms in frustration.

Her mother put down the console, scooting closer. "Do you need help?"

Selene crossed her tiny arms over her chest, pouting. "Na," she mumbled.

"Here," Levana said, holding out a gloved hand. "Let mommy help you." She gently took both of Selene's hands in her own, lifting the child up until she stood. Selene cooed, looking down at her feet; they soon began moving as Levana guided her across the floor. "There you go!"

Selene giggled, her cheeks flushed red from teething. Levana had begun to wean her off breastmilk after the first accidental bite. The child was smiling for the first time in a while, refreshing after the weeks of constant wailing and tantrums.

"Okay, Selene…I'm letting you go now…" Levana said, releasing the one-year-old's hands. As soon as she did, Selene froze and began to whimper, rooted to the spot.

"Come on, you can do it," Levana encouraged her, kneeling down on the floor.

Selene wouldn't relent, but neither would Levana. The child began to cry, bunching her small hands into fists. Her mother stayed by, watching. "You'll never walk if I just hold your hand all the time," Levana said. "Go ahead, you'll be fine. I'll catch you if you fall."

Selene sniffed, making a face.

"Just take a step," Levana insisted, a persistent warmth in her voice.

Finally, after many whimpers from Selene, said child stepped forward, staring intently at her shiny black slipper. One step after another, until she walked into Levana's arms, a big smile on her face.

"There you go!" Levana exclaimed, holding Selene in a tender hug. "You did it!"

Selene laughed, wrapping her arms around Levana's slender neck, climbing onto her mother's lap. Levana kissed the crown of her head, stroking back her fine brown hair. A warm feeling made itself known deep in her chest; a sense of peace, if you will. It was an entirely foreign concept to Levana.

"Mama…" Selene mumbled, looking up at her mother's face, her eyes big. "I wuv you."

Levana put a hand to her mouth just as the tears came, sobs threatening to overpower her. She held Selene to her chest, love for the child, _her _child, pouring out of her in the form of wet droplets running down her cheeks. "I love you too, Selene," she hiccupped, "I love you so much…"

She looked down at Selene's face through the blur of tears, and for the first time, she didn't feel queasy, sick. She felt the warmth of motherhood.

The warmth of love.


	29. Chapter 28

"Mamaaaaa!" Selene cried, standing up in her crib, holding on to the railings for support. She was most certainly not in a good mood. "Mamaaaaa!"

From across the hall, Levana bolted awake at her daughter's cry. It was rare that she would call for her like that, especially early in the morning. She supposed that all children would call for their parents like this, but Levana couldn't help but be worried. The hall her room was in had no other inhabitants other than her and her daughter, but she was afraid that her cries could reach up to the other parts of the palace as well.

Levana reacted as quick as lightning as she hastily put on her robe before walking barefooted towards Selene's room. Once she spotted her daughter's tear stained face, she made a beeline towards her before cradling her in her arms. Despite having turned three the month before, Selene was still quite light—enough so that Levana could pick her up with ease.

The princess hummed a little tune as she pacified her, rocking her slightly. Selene ceased her crying and started to relax in her arms. "Good morning to you too, Selene," Levana started, sitting down on the rocking chair by the dresser. She wiped the girl's tears away before setting her on her lap. "You gave me quite a scare."

Selene wrapped her arms around her mother's middle and rested her head on her chest, still pouting. Levana responded by wrapping her arms around her, kissing the crown of her head.

"Stay," Selene whimpered, slightly squeezing Levana's middle. "Stay toooo-night."

"You want me to sleep here later this evening?" Levana clarified. She felt Selene nod against her chest. "I don't think I will be able to. Your crib would not fit the both of us," she mused, poking at her daughter's stomach, making her giggle. "How about you sleep in my room for tonight, just this once?" She felt Selene nod against her chest again, more enthusiastically this time. Leaning back against the rocking chair, Levana brought her hand to Selene's back and started to rub little circles with her thumb.

"In the meantime, what should we do today?" Levana said, rocking back and forth on the chair.

"Cake!"

Levana looked down at Selene, quirking a slender eyebrow. "You want to bake a cake? I think I could make that work…"

"Cake! I want cake!" Selene giggled, clapping her hands together.

Levana smiled. "Cake it is, then."

Selene slipped off of her mother's lap, toddling along, lifting the skirt of her nightgown. "Get dressed first!"

Her mother followed as she laughed. "Of course."

An hour later, when both were dressed and had eaten breakfast, Levana and Selene made their way to the palace kitchens, walking hand in hand. Levana had requested the bakery for the morning, leaving the room free for them to make their cake.

Seating the child on the counter, Levana helped Selene into a frilly white apron, nearly identical to her own. The child giggled as she watched her mother take out the many ingredients—eggs, flour, oil, chocolate and the like.

"Don't forget da sprinkles!" Selene said, pointing at the excessively flamboyant rack of cake decorations, ranging from icing pipes to a rainbow of fondant.

"Can't forget those," Levana replied, skimming through the vast selection of sprinkles. "What colour would you like?"

"Purple! It's my favourite," Selene said.

Levana picked out a jar of violet vermicelli, smiling. "It's my favourite, too." She handed the jar to Selene, and, with a grunt, lifted up the heavy stand-mixer from the bottom shelf of the glass counter. The oven started to heat itself with a snap of her fingers.

Selene sang a little tune as Levana washed her hands and began to mix the ingredients, carefully separating the egg whites and yolks. With a flourish, she whipped the gooey whites until they formed a snowy foam, like bubble bath.

"Is dat stuff yummy?" Selene asked, peering into the bowl.

Levana dipped a finger into the foam, scooping up a little and bringing it to her daughter's mouth. "You tell me."

Selene licked off the white, making a face as she swallowed. "Ew."

"Don't worry; it'll taste much better in the batter."

Selene continued to watch intently as Levana scooped the foam into the larger bowl, folding it into the mix. She then poured in rich melted chocolate, the scent making both of their mouths water.

Humming under her breath, Levana turned away, grabbing two cake pans from beside the oven, hunched over. When she made her way back to the counter, she was surprised to see Selene standing with her hands behind her back, cake batter smeared across her face.

"Selene," Levana said, putting a hand on her hip, "did you go into the bowl?"

"No," Selene said, shaking her head.

Levana laughed, wiping Selene's cheeks with a napkin. "I think you're lying, sweetie."

"Nu-huh," Selene said again, grinning.

Levana rolled her eyes, throwing the napkin away in the garbage. "Just make sure those little hands of yours stay out," she giggled, poking at Selene's stomach. "We want enough batter to actually make the cake."

Selene nodded, wiping away the rest of the chocolate on her sleeve. Levana then began to pour the thick concoction into the greased pans, taking great care not to waste a drop. Selene volunte`ered to lick the spoon.

After the two pans were put in the oven, Levana began running water for the dishes. The servants would clean the kitchen afterwards, she knew, but she began to soak the bowl, spoons and mixer out of consideration. No need to give them more work. She wiped her hands dry on her apron as she watched Selene try to wipe the counter with a cloth, but ending up with most of the flour and batter on her clothes instead. Levana laughed. In that moment, she could see herself in Selene's shoes—Malissa would often bake cakes with her when she was little. And, just like Selene, she would look like an exploded candy factory every time.

The two continued to clean and mull over the decorations as the oven beeped. "Oh, it's done!"

"Cake!" Selene squealed, clapping her hands.

Levana smiled, slipping on thick oven mitts. She gently took out the two pans and left the cake to cool on a rack. Both Selene and Levana waited impatiently, mixing the icing and selecting their toppings. Once the cake was no longer scalding to the touch, Levana put the two layers together, connecting them with frothy pink icing. "Do you like this colour, Selene?" Levana asked as she put a dollop of the cream on the top of the cake, spreading it around with a butter knife.

"Ya," Selene said, gripping a jar of sprinkles in her hands. "Pretty with purple sprinkles."

Levana stood back once she was finished, mulling over the icing job. "Do you think I should put little flowers on it?"

Selene nodded frantically, grinning from ear to ear. Levana smiled in return, filling a piping bag with purple icing, screwing the nozzle on tight. Her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth as she narrowed her eyes in concentration, gently squeezing the bag. Little frosting blooms were placed around both of the cake's layers.

"Little flowers!" Selene said, opening the jar of sprinkles. "Now the purple!"

"Of course," Levana replied, pushing the cake closer to her daughter. "Here, you put them on."

Selene giggled as she shook the jar over the cake, sprinkles coming down in a shower of violet akin to fairy dust. Before long, the pastry was done, and Levana smiled, nodding in approval. "Good job, sweetie." She turned the cake around. "It's a masterpiece."

Selene laughed, putting the jar down beside her. "It's my patty cake that I baked for you."

"For me?" Levana put a hand to her chest. "Thank you so much!"

"Now it's time to eat!"

"No time like the present," Levana said, pulling a sharp knife out of a drawer, along with two forks and plates. "Do you want a big piece?"

"Ya!" Selene replied.

Levana cut the cake carefully, her metal hand covered in flour and cocoa. The scent of moist chocolate filled the air as she placed a piece on one of the plates, handing it over to the laughing child.

Selene quickly scooped up a chunk and shoved it in her mouth, getting it all over her hands and face. Levana laughed as she ate her own cake, watching her daughter get immersed into the magical world of sweets.

"Is it good?"

"Mmm…dewicious!" Selene said between chews, her voice muffled by the contents of her mouth.

Levana put a hand to her belly, taking another bite. "You're right; it's fantastic!"

Selene quickly finished, sucking the last remnants of chocolate from her fork. Levana wiped her face with care, gazing lovingly at her daughter's smile, her adorable little dimples. In a surge of affection, she gently kissed the child's nose.

She was just like the cake smeared on her cheeks—sweet as candy.

* * *

"Mama?"

Levana looked up from the book she was reading. "What is it, Selene?"

Selene held her hands behind her back, rocking back on her heels. "Do I…do I have a daddy?"

Levana blinked, the colour quickly draining from her face. Silence fell over the palace library, where they had been relaxing together for the better part of that afternoon. Selene had just started to learn how to read in her lessons, but hasn't really made much progress so far. She mostly just admired the books' pictures.

It took Levana a moment to gather her wits. "Why do you ask?" she croaked, clutching her book.

"All the other kids at the court meetings have a daddy; why don't I?"

Levana squeezed her eyes shut, her panic overstaying its welcome. She knew that this question would be asked eventually, but even with the endless nights of contemplating how she would answer, she wasn't at all prepared to tell Selene the truth. "You do," she finally said, biting her lip. "You just don't know him."

Selene cocked her head, her dark eyes open wide. "Why not?"

Levana sighed, blinking back tears. "He's a bad, bad man. Trust me, you don't want to know him."

"What did he do? Don't you love him?" Selene said, gripping the fabric of her skirt. The lacy dress that she wore complimented her tiny frame nicely, adding a lovely touch along with her pigtails.

Levana's heart began to flutter even faster, her cheeks flaming. "No. I could never, ever love him. He hurt me in an unforgivable way," she replied, her voice a harsh whisper.

"But…nanny told me that babies are made when mommies and daddies love each other. Very, very much."

Levana held her arms out wide. "Come here, sweetie," she beckoned, wrapping Selene in a warm embrace. The child buried her face in her mother's hair. "Nanny said that?"

"Yeah. Isn't it true?"

Levana sobbed, kissing the crown of her head. "Not all the time, Selene." She held the child tighter, gently rubbing her back. "It's not always like that."

Selene gripped the sleeves of Levana's dress, clinging onto her. She was clearly afraid, unable to comprehend what Levana meant in her four-year-old mind. "Do I hurt you?" she asked after a moment, her onyx eyes wide and glistening.

"No, of course not." Levana kissed her forehead. "I love you so much. You're my whole world," she said, cradling the child in her lap. "You're the only one who can make me smile."

Selene's mouth opened in a small 'o'. "What about Sybil? She makes you smile sometimes."

"I guess that's true…"

Selene smiled. "I like Sybil. Akiko, too."

"It's _Akiho_, sweetie," Levana corrected, brushing back Selene's bangs. "You know how upset she gets when you call her that."

"I'm sorry. It's just hard to say."

Levana stood, carrying her daughter in her arms. "No need to apologize."

Selene yawned, resting her head against Levana's breast. "I'm tired…" she trailed off, playing with Levana's fingers.

"Would you like to go down for a nap?" Levana felt Selene nod, and she planted another kiss on her head. "Nap time it is, then."

Levana hummed a soft melody in Selene's ear as they made their way to the nursery. "What's this?" Selene asked suddenly, slipping the ring off Levana's finger.

The princess' eyes widened. "That? My…your…" she sighed, "my fiancé gave it to me."

"Fianc—what? What's that?"

"A prince charming of sorts. It's the person that you're going to marry."

Selene gazed at the ring, entranced by the twinkling diamonds. "Do you love him?"

"Yes," Levana whispered, gently rubbing the child's back. "I love him nearly as much as I love you."


	30. Chapter 29

"Work with me on this one, Selene. Say 'ahhh'," Levana said, holding a spoon of mashed potatoes to Selene's lips. The child took the spoon in her mouth, chewing in a rather unladylike manner. "Good job, Sweetie!"

Selene giggled, clapping her hands. "More!"

A snort of disgust came from the end of the table, where Channary sat, frowning. Levana and Selene were sitting opposite the queen, in their own world. The whole display simply served to make Channary's stomach churn.

"Levana, stop teaching the rugrat such terrible manners." She sniffed. "I swear she's more like a mongrel than a princess."

Levana tossed her hair, feeding Selene another spoonful of potatoes. Channary hissed, scrunching her napkin in a clenched fist. Servants bustled around the table, the sound of clattering plates coming from the kitchen as they came in and out.

"Selene, do you want to be a _real _princess?"

The child looked over to her aunt, smiling wide. "But I _am_ a real princess. Mama says so."

Channary's teeth clenched at the word _mama. _"Just stay quiet, would you? Your gum-slapping is making me sick," she grumbled.

Levana sighed, wiping stray potatoes from Selene's cheeks. "Just leave her alone, Channary. She's only four."

Selene wiped her hands on her bib, a grin on her face.

"More tea, Your Highness?" a servant asked Levana, holding a steaming teapot in her gloved hands. Levana nodded, holding the cup out. The servant refilled it with a smile. "Shall I also get milk for your niece, dear?"

Levana gripped the handle of the teacup, her brow scrunched in confusion. "Yes, but—"

The servant whisked Selene's cup away with a flourish, cutting Levana off mid-sentence. Channary smirked slightly at the spectacle.

"Mmm, milk! I love milk!" Selene said, rubbing her belly.

"Why do they always refer to her as my niece?" Levana asked, glancing over at her sister. "It's been happening often lately."

Channary arched an eyebrow, taking a sip of her own tea. "Why should I know?"

Levana crossed her arms over her chest. "It's getting on my nerves. You've never been pregnant, so why are they mistaking her for yours?" The princess cocked her head. "Is there something I should know?"

Channary blew a strand of hair from her face. "Oh, please. If there was anything to know, it would be evident."

Levana arched an eyebrow, feeding Selene another spoonful of potatoes. "You're hiding something from me."

"No, I'm not."

Levana set down the spoon. "You are," she insisted. The tell-tale signs were there. The queen nervously sipping her wine, the soft tapping of her foot. Channary was a terrible liar when she _really_ had something to hide.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Channary said, her expression hinting at nothing. Her lips curled into a sneer. "Clean up your rugrat, would you?"

Looking to her right, Levana saw that Selene's dress, hands and face were covered with gooey white. Levana loosened up, laughing a bit at how silly she looked. She sighed with a small smile on her face as she started wiping her down.

"I guess that's the last time I'm allowing you to eat that by yourself," she chuckled. Selene smiled.

"How disgusting," Channary muttered, rising to her feet in a single motion. The wine swished in her glass, like the blood of her people.

Levana rolled her eyes, diverting her attention back to Selene as Channary left, grumbling. "Was that good, sweetie?"

"Yum! I love potatoes!"

Levana smiled, brushing Selene's bangs from her brow. "We should have them more often. I'm sure that the cooks would be happy to make them," she said.

Selene clapped her hands then pushed away her empty bowl. "I'm ready fo' desert."

"Me too. What would you like?"

"Chocolate cake! I love cake."

Levana leaned back as a servant took away both her and Selene's dishes, replacing them with plates of luscious cake.

"Why were you and auntie fighting?"

Levana scrunched her nose, taking a bite of her cake. "She's keeping secrets, Selene. And I'm going to find out what they are."

* * *

Levana entered her sister's study on her tiptoes, as if the floor was a landmine that would go off at any moment. The room was vast and cold, more like a dungeon rather than a workspace. The large netscreen on the wall seemed to be waiting for her, the login screen blinking.

She frowned. Of course it was password-protected.

Levana felt the urge to give up before she even started. The password could've been anything. And, she knew if she got it wrong, Channary would know it in an instant; then she'd really be in trouble. She sat herself down on the chair, her fingers at the ready.  
_  
Enter password._

Her fingers flew across the keyboard.  
_  
Password incorrect; try again?_

She hissed, searching her mind for any hint, any at all. _Think, Levana._  
_  
EarthenEmpress,_ she typed in.

She gaped at the screen as it blinked green and opened the home menu. A surge of pride rushed through her. She had done it. Her eyes darted across the screen as she searched file after file for anything suspicious. Selene's records were all stored in the same folder. _How convenient_, she thought.

Vaccination receipts, medical forms, her school application for the next year. Nothing of particular importance, nothing that stood out as odd. She set her cheek against her knuckles, blowing a strand of hair from her face. "Come on, there must be something here…"

Nothing, nothing, nothing. Levana sighed, leaning back into the cushioned chair. The last document in the folder was Selene's birth certificate, sitting nice and pretty at the bottom of the list. She gently tapped on the icon, the file popping open with a flash.

Levana's heart began to pound faster as she skimmed down the certificate, her eyes narrowing.

_Princess Selene Jannali Blackburn of Luna_

_Sex: F_

_Date of Birth: June 16__th__, 109 T.E._

_Weight: 6.3 pounds_

_Length: 48 cm_

_Father: Unknown_

_Mother: Channary Lucia Blackburn _

Levana's heart was a volcano now, her blood flowing like magma through her veins. _Mother. Channary. _The queen's loopy signature sat on the bottom like a parasite, taunting her.

_Mother. Channary._

"Levana, what the hell are you doing in here?!" Channary barked, sending Levana in a frenzy, her blunt nails clutching the edge of the desk as she sunk lower into the chair. Icy fear pooled in her belly, making her shiver.

Channary stalked forward like an enraged bull. "You know that you're not allowed in here, you stupid little—"

"_This_ is what you were hiding from me?" Levana asked softly, her eyes wide and glistening. She gestured to the screen. "Why is this here? Where is the _real_ one?"

Channary pushed Levana out of the chair, smirking as the princess stumbled to the ground. "This _is_ the real birth certificate, if that's what you mean. Now, get out this—"

Levana cut her off once again, her skirt swishing around her feet as she stood. "Why is your name on my daughter's birth certificate? Why did you forge it? What could you possibly gain from this?!" The words came pouring from her mouth like vomit, disgusting and vile and making her pulse ring in her ears.

Channary's eyes narrowed, the smoky tone of her eyeshadow making them all the more menacing. "Your daughter? Why, she's mine," the queen purred, staring down at her nails. "The birth certificate says so."

"It's a forgery," Levana replied, her tone dripping with venom. "She's _mine_. You forced me to have her, and you…" Her eyes widened, her lips pursing. The tension in the room was so thick that she feared she would choke on it. "So that's why. That's why you made me keep her." Levana put a hand to her mouth.

_(every scream every cry this was all part of your plan but why do you want this)_

Channary swiped her fingers across the screen, closing all the open windows and switching off the device. "Oh, you silly little twit." She giggled. "Of course I made you keep her. She's my child, after all. You just," she put a finger to her lips, "you just incubated her, that's all."

Levana's eyes sparked with a fury like no other, her lip quivering. "How could you…but _why_? What does Selene matter to you? You don't need her."

"Oh, but I do. She's my heir, after all. The future queen."

"Have a child of your own, if it's an heir that you want. It's not like it's a problem for you; any man on Luna would bend over backwards to father the child of the queen."

Channary's face fell. An agonizing silence fell over the two. Levana backed away slowly, her arms crossed over her chest.

"It's quite a problem," Channary mumbled, her eyes fixated on her manicure. "Quite a problem indeed."

Levana felt uneasy, put on the spot, trapped in a cage. "What, can you not have children?" she asked. The look of horror and anger that contorted Channary's face answered for her. "You can't," Levana echoed her thoughts. "You're barren, aren't you?"

Channary's sharp nails scratched against each other, and Levana barely had time to move away before they were digging into her shoulder. "Should you breathe a _word _ of this to anyone," she hissed, "I will have your body hung in the middle of the city for all to see."

Levana's heart fluttered like a hummingbird. She broke into a cold sweat. "It all makes sense now. All this time, you—"

"If I hear the slightest _whisper_ of this in the court, I will have your precious Selene cut up into chunks and thrown in the lake!" Channary shouted, shoving Levana away once again.

Levana found herself trembling, maybe from anger, maybe from sadness, maybe from surprise. Anger at Channary's selfishness. Sadness at her sister's plight. Surprise that it existed at all.

She had always assumed that her sister was the perfect girl; the one that every girl wanted to be. The one Levana herself wanted to be at a time. But Channary had a flaw, a weakness. As much as the queen liked to believe she was perfect, she was flawed. Broken. The thought made a laugh burst from Levana's throat.

Channary growled, her cheeks flushed, her teeth clenched. For the briefest of moments, she was hideous, despite her relentless beauty. She was pretty and ugly. Always both. She had always been both.

"I'm going to tell everyone. Just watch me. I'll tell the whole court, then they'll tell the media, and the news will spread like wildfire. The barren Queen Channary." She laughed again, despite the anger that rolled off the queen in waves. "And they'll all now about how you go around forging birth certificates, stealing babies."

"Shut up, Crybaby! Crybaby Levana—that's all you are!" Channary roared, tears pooling in her eyes.

The second and last time that Levana ever saw her sister cry.

_(crybaby Levana look your arm__'__s on fire I can__'__t believe it you__'__re really burning oh stop screaming you crybaby)_

"Channary the baby-snatcher. Soon enough all the mothers will no longer let you kiss their childrens' foreheads. You'll just steal their angels away, like the baby-snatcher that you are. You'll make them all your little spawns," Levana babbled, the words never stopping, flowing and flowing like an endless stream.

"Oh, SHUT UP!"

No sooner than when the queen released such a sound did a maid appear in the doorway, her head lowered smartly. Channary's gaze settled on her, and if looks could kill, the maid would be nothing more than an emaciated corpse on the floor.

"Your Majesty, is everything alright?" The maid cleared her throat.

"How dare you walk in on us—"

"Yes, everything's fine," Levana cut in, her palms laying flat at her sides. "What do you need?"

The maid dared to lift her head. "Her Highness has awoken from her nap and is calling for you, Princess."

Levana's spine straightened. "Of course." She turned to Channary, giving a slight bow. "It's been a pleasant chat, sister dearest, but I'm afraid that I must go."

Channary watched as Levana and the maid left with a flourish, an odd grace to her sister's step. Rage seemed to replace her blood as if coursed through her veins, making every cell burn and roar. Burn. _Burn._

_(the news will spread like wildfire then they__'__ll know about you Channary the baby-snatcher)_

The queen put a hand to her flat stomach, a silver ribbon tied beautifully around her slim waist. _Burn. Spread like wildfire._

_(your arm is really on fire oh stars you know it__'__s kind of pretty if you think about it)_

A sigh. A smile. Channary stood rooted to the spot, fantasies of murder flooding through her along with the rage.

_Oh, it__'__ll spread like wildfire__…_


	31. Chapter 30

Levana couldn't sleep.

Try as she may, nothing could make her drift off to dreamland. Not that she wanted to go. It was a bit of a relief—nothing was worse than suffering through the horrors that her subconscious would conjure up for her. She lay in bed, bundled in blankets, staring up at the ceiling. Akiho wasn't too far away, charging by the wall.

She sighed. Counting the lint on her nightgown was no longer amusing, nor was picking at her fingernails or fiddling with her ring. She tried to resist picking up a book—once she got into one, she couldn't put it down. But it was calling to her, anything to escape boredom. Slowly, she sat up, stretching her arms over her head. Just as a yawn escaped her, she froze in her tracks. Peering over at her door, she listened intently to the faint sound of footsteps that echoed out in the hallway. Levana suspected a maid, taking another tray of tea and cookies to the queen. Channary had always insisted on a little sugar before bed.

Disappointed, she turned her attention over to her bookcase. Her bedside lamp came on with the touch of a button, and Levana slipped out of bed, the floor cold against her bare feet. Standing in front of her massive collection, she looked over the books, title after title, for something she hadn't yet read.

In her peripheral vision, she noticed a little spark of light from outside, fizzling away as quickly as it appeared. Levana jumped, spooked. She waited, listening intently for the slightest sound, the slightest thump. After a moment, when the danger seemed far away, she relaxed, going back to her books.

Levana stood on her tiptoes and slipped out a thick volume, the title embroidered in gold on the cover. She sat back on her bed, cross-legged with the book on her lap; she immersed herself into it, a collection of second-era stories, filled with magic and princesses and evil animals.

Her head began to pound, spinning from nausea. Levana crinkled her nose, a sickening stench wafting through the air. The book fell from her grasp. She stood carefully, nearly falling over. Dizziness overtook her, and she blinked quickly, trying to clear her hazy vision. What was that horrible, horrible smell?

A sinking feeling settled in the pits of her stomach. Gasoline. It was unmistakeable; the noxious fumes making her feel faint. Panic immediately flooded her mind, her heart pounding. A gas leak. Those didn't happen often, but she knew that if she smelled gas, she should get out of the palace. Immediately.

Quick as lightning, she flung open the doors to her balcony, breathing in the fresh air outside. She sighed, the pounding headache already weakening. Most of the city was dark, save for the glowing skyscrapers that protruded up from amongst the plethora of houses and shops.

Levana moved away from the balcony, about to grab Akiho and make a run for it—but stopped dead in her tracks. Now, the room wasn't filled with the scent of gas, but rather, the horrible stench of smoke. Thick, black, bonfire smoke.

Dread churned in her stomach. Her room was quickly infested by the deadly gas, and she coughed as it threatened to choke her alive.

"Akiho," Levana croaked, trying to rouse the android. "Akiho, come on…there's a fire…"

The princess jumped as a scream echoed through the room, ringing over and over again in her ears. The sound was guttural, horrifying—full of fear. Levana's blood ran cold, and she stumbled out of the room, her heart nearly tearing out of her chest. "Selene? Selene, what is it?!" she cried, earning only more screams as a response.

The princess threw herself at the nursery door, gripping the doorknob. To her horror, it was locked. Levana cried out, attacking the door with her fists. "SELENE! Baby, open up! PLEASE!" she screamed.

She pulled against the locked door with all her strength, but it wouldn't budge. She went over to the wall and grabbed a sword from one of the nearby suits of armour. Wedging the blade in the lock, she pushed and jerked until the brass knob fell off and the door flung open.

Inside the nursery, she was met with what could only be described as hell. A raging inferno was consuming every available surface, and thick, black smoke rose up, its poisonous vapour making Levana drop to her knees. She couldn't even see three feet in front of her. She could still hear her daughter's agonized screams of pain and fear, but the whole thing just seemed so surreal, so far away.

She squeezed her eyes shut, the acid from the smoke making them sting. It was as if she were floating in a haze, watching the whole event unfold before her. As if it was a dream. A horrid, terrifying dream. A nightmare. However, her brain was fighting, her conscience screaming.

_Wake up. This isn't a dream. This is real. You are being controlled. Glamoured. Wake up. WAKE UP__!_

Her eyes snapped open, her mind clearing. She managed to find the strength to get up, and she recognized the feeling that had taken over her. She only felt that when she was being glamoured, and not just by anyone, but by her sister.

Channary_._

Levana jumped as her ears were filled with the sound of jovial, tittering laughter, that drowned out the screaming and the crackling of the fire. Although the sound was filled with the sweetness of a child's giggle, it send a chill down her spine, which was quickly replaced with fury, pure hatred and anger. She turned around, stepping out of the flaming nursery.

Channary was standing in the hallway with her arms crossed over her chest, her haughty stance looming over Levana. She had a huge grin on her face and her brown eyes were lit up with the fire's light. Normally, when Channary looked at her like that, Levana would slouch, trying to appear as small as possible, but then, she stood tall. She was not afraid. Not anymore.

Her resolve was broken, however, when Channary took out a small rectangular box from her dress pocket. The queen took a step closer, allowing Levana to see it in the fire's light. Her jaw dropped. Channary was holding a _box of matches_ in her hand. Levana felt she had just been punched in the gut.

Suddenly, the world changed. Time froze and the ground lurched beneath the princess. Levana snarled, a sound so guttural and primal that it sounded like an animal's. She saw nothing but red.

"You—you monster! You evil, repulsive WITCH!" Levana screamed. Channary simply laughed again, waving the cursed matchbox in front of her face. Levana seethed as the witch continued to mock her.

"Say whatever you want, Levana. Your word has no value nor influence, so it's just a waste of air, anyway."

"How could you do this to me? How could do this to your own NIECE!?"

"I guess it hasn't already registered in your _thick head, _then," Channary sneered, slipping the matchbox back in her pocket. "Isn't it obvious? I _hate_ you! You're nothing but a pathetic waste of space, and so is your bastard daughter. You two are nothing but a pain in the butt, so why shouldn't I dispose of you? It's not like anyone would _miss_ you," she said, giggling.

Levana's eyes opened tremendously wide, the glint of insanity that she had seen so many times—in her mother's eyes, her father's eyes, in Channary's eyes—finally making its way to her own.

She picked up the sword that she had flung on the ground and drove it right through Channary's gut, as deep as it would go, until she could see the bloody blade on the other side of the queen's body. Blood quickly stained her pink dress, a wound beyond anyone's ability to heal. Channary shrieked in pain, clutching the hilt protruding from her stomach. The sudden stab had winded her, leaving her too weak to even attempt pulling the sword out. Her knees gave out from beneath her, and she fell with a thud.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Levana licked her dry lips. "Do you get it now? Do you finally—"

"Please," Channary cut her off, her eyes glistening with tears.

Levana's jaw dropped, dumbfounded. "_Mercy_?" she spat, her shoulders shaking. "You want _MERCY_?! You, who has never shown and inkling of pity for me, the most helpless of your victims..."

"Levana..." Channary crawled forward, her eyes wide and cheeks glistening. "You _know _that you don't want this," she sniffled, in her best attempts to look sad and pathetic. "You know how much you'll regret killing me."

Levana could feel the queen's weak attempts at gripping her mind. _Help me up. Pull the sword out. Call a guard, a nurse, anyone. PLEASE_—

The corners of Levana's mouth curled upwards. "No." She shook her head. "I have many regrets, Channary, but killing you will_ not _be one of them."

"Levana, please..." The fallen queen managed to get back on her feet. She held a hand out, in her last ditch effort for survival. "You're my baby sister. Don't you know how much I love you?"

Rage bubbled in her veins, but she plastered a smile on her face. "Do you take me for a fool, Channary?" she said, her tone artificially pleasant.

"What do you mean?" Channary flinched, trying to pull the sword from her gut. "You don't believe me?"

Levana took Channary's trembling hand, lightly tracing her fingers over her sister's skin. "I wouldn't believe such a blatant lie even if my life depended on it."

She then gripped the hilt of the sword, pulling it out of Channary's middle and driving it back in even harder, the sickening squelch of bloody flesh increasing in volume as Levana twisted the blade back and forth. Channary's eyes rolled in the back of her head, bloody saliva dribbling from her lips. Trickles of red ran down from her nostrils, like crimson streams. Levana had expected screams of terror and pain, but the queen started to laugh instead—sharp, nasal, delirious laughter that came straight from a horror movie. It was a sound that Levana would never be able to forget.

The princess let out a shriek as her sister's hand swiped her cheek, the queen's sharp nails digging into her skin, leaving stinging cuts. With a roar, Levana pushed Channary into the room, right into the awaiting flames. The queen threw her head back and continued to cackle, even as she fell into the fire, the long hem of her gown quickly burning.

Soon, the crackling of the inferno drowned out Channary's dying laughter, until no trace of her voice remained.

The queen was more.

Levana held her hands to her nose, covering her mouth, tears streaming down her face. The reality of what she had done settled in her mind, booming loudly. She had killed her. She had killed Channary. She shook her head in denial. No. She couldn't have. Not ever.

_Murderer._

She could hear a voice—not quite her own, but a twisted version of it. Levana banged her head against the wall. No matter how hard she tried, it wouldn't shut up.

_MURDERER! MURDERER! MURDERER!_

Sobs quickly wracked her body as she stared at the fire, the horrid stench of burning wood and flesh invading her nose. "Selene…" she whimpered, forcing herself to her feet. "SELENE!"

Levana pushed herself into the nursery, crawling below the thick smoke. The scalding floor burned her knees and her human palm as she scurried about, dodging the burning furniture and wooden beams that fell from the ceiling. Her vision was blurred by her tears, her mind running into overdrive. "SELENE!" she screamed, ducking under a falling chandelier. "WHERE ARE YOU?!"

Her fear had turned into full-out hysteria, and she was no longer able to see straight. The heat was overwhelming. _This is it_, she thought. This was the end. She was trapped. A barricade of scorched debris blocked her exit, and a wall of fire guarded the way to Selene's crib, like the angel guarding Eden. The inferno surrounded her, leaving nothing in her sight but blinding orange.

With a final shriek, she dropped to the floor, grey ash attacking her tongue, and she gagged. Never had she tasted anything so foul. Coughing, she glanced around, her hand landing into something wet.

Blood. Channary's blood, to be precise.

Levana's eyes stung as she glared at the pool of sticky, at the red coating her fingers. She swirled it around for a moment before bringing it ever so slowly to her face, lathering it on her lips as if it were a deep, luxurious rouge. She smacked her lips together, pursing them and smiling, a demonic cackle tearing its way out of her throat. She imagined how pretty she looked, with her lips red red red. She relished at the taste of Channary's blood on her tongue, washing away the ash.

She howled in pain, part because of the burning fire, but mostly because deep down, she could feel the blood on her lips, her hands, wiping away her innocence as well.


	32. Chapter 31

Levana awoke in pain.

No surprise there—when was the last time she had opened her eyes in the morning and thought, _this is going to be a good day_? Most of the time, she woke up in tears, shaking from the remnants of her daily nightmare.

But this time, her slumber had been relatively calm. For the briefest of moments, Levana felt at peace, but, of course, it didn't last. The first thing that she was aware of was the sound of her own voice. She moaned, a rasp that barely passed for that of a human. Her throat was raw, as was the rest of her body. Her muscles felt torn and useless. Her eyes stung. It hurt to swallow, to move, to breathe.

_(so hot it burns why does it hurt so much mommy daddy help me)_

The oh-so-familiar beeping of monitors and IV drips were the first indicator of where she was. Levana groaned internally and kept her eyes shut. She didn't want to see the blinding white of the ICU; she was so sick of hospitals. Of the bland rooms, of medicine and chemicals and God knows what else. The soft pillow that held her head up did nothing to help the pounding.

_(get me out of here I hate it get me out get me out no no no)_

She felt a cool hand touch her arm, and she let out a soft sigh despite her raw throat. Her burning skin seemed to beg for the cold touch, and she found herself fantasizing about ice. A sweet ice cream dream…

"You'll be okay, Your Highness," Cool Hand said, his voice soft and lyrical. Levana frowned. Since when was she ever okay?

"Are you in pain?" he asked, his cold hand brushing her arm again.

"Yes," Levana croaked.

The hand came behind her back, helping her into an upright position. Levana glanced up at the man that belonged to it—another doctor, another pitying face. She frowned. They all seemed so faceless now. In that moment, she realized just how little people she actually knew. Just how many people there were who attended to her, nameless beings in the background.

"Where is…where is Selene?" she managed to say as the doctor gave her painkillers, gently probing her arm.

He looked up at her, his brilliant green eyes downcast and his features contorted in sadness. "I'm sorry, Princess. Her Highness is gone. All they've found is an arm and a leg." He lowered his head. "Your sister, too. They're both deceased. I'm so, so sorry."

It took Levana a moment to let the news sink in, her muddled mind mulling over each word. _Gone. Dead. Selene is dead. Your baby is_—

"No," Levana whimpered, clutching the sheets like a vice. "You're wrong. She's not gone. She can't be…"

"I'm so sorry for your loss," the doctor said. "I wish it wasn't true, but…the fire killed Selene. There was barely a body left. You're lucky that you escaped with your life, Princess." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Your sister on the other hand, well—we suspect murder."

_(murderer you sick killer you did this you should burn in hell like Channary you should join her you sick killer)_

Levana sniffed. "And why do you say that?"

"She was dead by the time the fire got to her; stabbed repeatedly in the abdomen. This is the work of an assassin, at least according to the court."

Levana sunk back further into her pillow, rubbing away her tears. A stinging pain made her wince and flinch away.

"Be careful, Your Highness; the fire did a good number on you, too." He gently put a finger on her left cheek, careful not to press down on the angry red blisters that swarmed her skin. "It'll leave faint scarring, but your eyes are still intact, as is your hair. Consider yourself lucky; you could've fared much worse."

Levana let the hot tears fall, making her hair stick to her neck along with the remnants of her sweat. "I'm so glad," she lied, hiding her metal hand beneath the sheet, as if doing so would make the doctor forget that it existed. But of course he knew. They all knew. Most of them had done her surgeries, had stitched up her face and had helped her give birth. The last one, though, was kept a secret by threat of death. Channary made sure of that.

Even with her sister dead, gone, Levana couldn't help but think of herself as an object.

To be used and thrown away when anyone so pleased.

* * *

The next day was no more tolerable than the previous one.

Levana was released from the hospital, the left half of her face covered in gauze. Her old bedroom had also caught fire along with the nursery, nearly all of her belongings were beyond repair, including her clothes and her sketchbooks. Levana couldn't stop sobbing as she watched servants dig through the ashes, pulling up charred sketches and grand paintings, all unrecognizable. All the time and effort that she had poured in. Gone, gone, gone.

It felt like she herself had been destroyed.

_(but I worked so hard on this so many pencils oh no please not that one it was my favourite)_

Her new quarters were located on the other side of the palace, much more lavish and large than her childhood room. Large windows draped in sheers lined the walls, and a massive embroidered carpet spanned most of the marble floor, soft and lush under her bare feet. A massive closet held hundreds of gowns, some hand-me-downs from her mother, others made brand-new by Artemisia's finest seamstresses.

Akiho had marvelled at the room for hours, exploring every nook and cranny. Levana took a nap. The whole afternoon was a mix of crying, sleeping and being held in Akiho's arms, who whispered words of comfort that fell on dead ears. Levana felt like a shrivelled prune by nightfall, having shed nearly every tear in her body.

Morning came quickly, almost obnoxiously so. Levana had to drag herself out of bed, barely holding down a breakfast of yogurt and raspberries. Her stomach was in knots by the time ten o'clock rolled around, the time-teller in question toiling loudly as she stood at the far edge of the graveyard, holding a small urn in her gloved hands, filled with Selene's remains.

She sobbed hysterically as she fell to her knees, clutching the box to her heart. _My darling. My baby. _There was no funeral for the young princess. Levana wanted to speeches, no eulogies for her beloved daughter. They meant nothing, anyway.

She had dug the grave in the ground herself. The space around her was void of any life, only the dead silenced by decades in the mud. She had demanded to be left alone to grieve. Instead of black, she was dressed head to toe in soft violet, a purple dress, lilac gloves. Both her and Selene's favourite colours. She didn't want to terrify her sleeping child, looking like a black spectre.

Levana laid the box down at the bottom of the hole, gently pushing in the dirt that rested on the side. _Dump. Dump._ Before long, the pit was filled and Levana pat the dirt down until it was flat. A few tears rolled down her cheeks and wet the brown soil.

_(Selene sweetie don__'__t worry mommy__'__s not going anywhere I__'__ll never leave you alone in the dark)_

The princess placed a gentle kiss on the small headstone, engraved with tiny flowers and stars. "Goodbye, sweetie," she managed, pressing her forehead against the stone.

* * *

Another funeral. Another ceremony.

Levana was really beginning to hate those.

Her mourning dress was a little too tight, quite constricting after the days of being either in a hospital gown or stark naked. The domes were once again cleared that day, the earth looming high over Artemisia, right out of Levana's reach. Mocking her, taunting her. Reminding her of all the things that she had lost.

Levana made her way to the back of the chapel before the rites, drawn by some unknown force. She shouldn't have been there. She didn't want to be there. And yet, there she was, taking in the sight of the casket resting in the middle of the small room, the scent of charred flesh wafting through the air despite the perfume of flowers. She crinkled her nose. The smell was horrid, but yet, she found herself inhaling over and over again, her nose welcoming it. She ran her spindly fingers across the sleek marble of the coffin, cool and shiny. The thing must've weighed a ton.

Her suspicions were quickly confirmed as she lifted the lid up with a grunt, cringing. The slab of rock came to a halt over the other side of the casket, and she peered into the box, where her sister's corpse was placed.

The beautiful Queen Channary was beautiful no more.

Her battered head rested on a frilly pillow, and her face was nearly unrecognizable, her cheeks so cut up that Levana could see the white bone beneath the charred skin. The ends of her hair were burnt off, singed and black. Despite the undertakers' efforts to make her look somewhat presentable, her once-white skin was shredded like tissue paper and covered in black welts and ugly gashes. Someone had mustered the decency to close her eyes.

Levana quickly shut the casket, quite sure that her breakfast was about to make a reappearance.

After the sickening sight, Levana stuck up a lip and endured the procession, wearing a fake face and crying fake tears. Countless nobles came up to her and gave their sympathies. _She__'ll be dearly missed. What a shame, such a lovely life, gone. How horrid it must be for you; first your parents, and now your sister. We__'re so sorry._

Lies. All lies.

After the dull rites, the late queen was buried in the cemetery, next to her parents, per tradition. Her headstone was a lovely shade of blue, covered from base to top in flowers—tulips, lilies, roses. Levana was disgusted throughout the whole affair. Even in death, Channary got her splendour, her flamboyant excess. Even in death she got things that she didn't deserve. Things that Levana knew she never would've gotten, if the tables were turned.

After thirty minutes, most people had retreated to the main hall for the reception, leaving Levana alone, the only one left. She dismissed her guards, and to her immense surprise, they obeyed. It took her a moment to realize that they _had _to do what she wanted. They _had_ to see to her every request.

She was their new queen.

Levana scrunched her nose. It hadn't even crossed her mind, as she stabbed Channary over and over again, that she would be taking her place. All that mattered was Selene. And revenge. Cold, heartless revenge.

She had gotten it. Levana had finally done what she had dreamed of doing for all those years—but she wasn't in the least bit satisfied. Channary's death wasn't enough. It would never be. For every tear that she had ever cried, Levana wanted someone's blood spilt. For every slap, for every stinging, harmful word, she wanted a head mounted on her wall.

Her gaze was like fire as she stared at the headstone, loopy letters engraved into the rock.

—

**_QUEEN CHANNARY LUCIA BLACKBURN OF LUNA_**

**_May 18th, 84 T.E.—October 6th, 112 T.E._**

**_MAY SHE REST IN PEACE_**

—

Levana sneered, crossing her arms over her chest. "I hope you rest in fiery, torturous peace," she muttered, trampling a few bouquets on the ground as she sauntered closer. "You don't deserve this. You don't deserve _anything _but the pain and torment of hell."

The tombstone didn't reply, as silent as the grave that it sat upon. Channary would never speak again. Channary would never mock her again.

The thought brought a smile to Levana's face.

"What, cat got your tongue, sister dearest?" Levana laughed. "You don't want to speak up, now that you're hideous and weak?"

No response; not that she expected one.

"How does it feel, hmm? How does it feel to be nothing, forgotten, _hated_?"

The petals of the flowers fluttered in the slight breeze.

"Now you know. Now you _finally _know how I felt my _whole life._ Now you finally know what it's like to be me." She spun around, her skirt billowing around her legs. "I hope you're happy. I hope you're proud."

In Levana's imagination, a silent scream resonated from the ground, as if Channary were roaring in fury.

"Goodbye, big sister. It's been a real pleasure."

In a final act of disrespect, Levana turned around and spat on Channary's grave.


	33. Chapter 32

The study was exactly as Channary had left it.

Not a book, pen or sheet of paper was out of place. A porcelain teacup lay fragile and pretty, still half-full with cold liquid. The golden clock on the far wall was still ticking away merrily, not aware of the events that had occurred just a few days before.

Levana stepped into the vast room, feeling like an intruder. She owed no respect to her late sister; just the thought of feeling uncomfortable in that space was more than Channary deserved. But she still felt unwelcome. The place still felt forbidden. A chill tittered down her spine, the eerie feeling of being watched. Levana imagined Channary hiding behind the statue of herself, waiting to pop out and devour her whole.

Nothing happened, though. Channary never came. Levana forced herself to remember that she was nothing now, just a corpse rotting in the ground. Only when her head started spinning did she realize that she was holding her breath.

The portraits that hung on the wall loomed over her as she wandered about the room, their eyes seeming to follow her every move. One of her parents, one of her grandparents, one of the guard...the list went on. She shivered under their glare.

A few logs sat untouched in the golden fireplace, just waiting to be lit. They seemed to beckon Levana forward, a lighter resting on a metal blade in the wall. With a flick of her thumb, the lighter came to life, and Levana nearly screamed, dropping the thing on the ground. It took her a moment to realize that the flame was gone, that it was just a lighter, a thing that she could control with ease. It wouldn't hurt her. It wouldn't burn her or her child alive.

Gulping, she picked the lighter up with a shaking hand, igniting it once again. A merry little flame danced around the end, nothing like the bonfire that had put her sister and daughter in the ground. It was calm, belonging on a candle.

She crouched down and scrunched up some stray papers, setting them amongst the logs, the lighter still hot and bright in her left hand. She watched with both awe and fear as she brought the flame to the paper, making it catch fire, the red-orange slowly making its way to the wood. Before long, the fire grew too hot for Levana to stand, her face aching. Her scars seemed to be writhing in agony at the reminder of the bonfire, of Selene's screams, of Channary's blood. Her stomach did a triple flip.

She quickly plopped the lighter back in its former place, scurrying away from the fireplace, as if it was haunted. Levana hated the feeling. She hated the feeling of being watched, stalked. She wouldn't be chased out of the room by some ghost.

One of Channary's prized bracelets lay on the desktop, sparkling in the light. Levana gripped it in a clenched fist, a hideous array of gold and diamonds. In an instant, the bangle was buried amongst the ashes and flames, out of sight, out of mind. Levana grinned.

She began tearing down portraits, candlesticks, books―all went in the fire. Trinket after trinket, all of Channary's belongings incinerated. A hairbrush. The teacup. A stray earring. Levana's breathing was heavy by the tenth object thrown, her eyes glinting with madness as she watched her parents burn, the flames wiping away her father's stony face and her mother's graceful fingers.

Gone. They were all gone.

A cackle tore its way from her throat, a strange giddiness replacing the fear in her belly. She went through Channary's desk drawers, her eyes widening as she encountered bottles, dozens of bottles of drink. Channary's secret stash. Levana had seldom seen her sister drunk, but she was well aware of the queen's love of alcohol. The bottles clinked she lifted one out, examining the label; it was vodka.

A surge of curiosity made her snap off the cork, sniffing the contents. The scent of spirits made her head spin, but instead of feeling faint, it sent a rush of excitement through her veins. Her heart was a drummer, marching on without any intention of stopping. She had never been drunk before. She wondered what it was like, and if it would make the memories disappear, if only for the briefest of moments.

Levana glanced around the room, once, twice, before bringing the bottle to her lips, the vodka running down her throat. She let out a sigh, the taste less overwhelming than she thought it would be. Sip after sip, the buzz increased, and Levana wrapped her arms around her chest, feeling warm and fuzzy. She giggled, throwing the bottle in the fire, still half-full; the remaining vodka made the flames brighten, blaring outside of the fireplace. Levana shrieked, jumping back like a frightened bird.

Her chest heaved as she stared at the fire, a surge of rage making a roar tear out of her throat. Her lips began moving before she even realized it, humming a tune under her breath that plagued her mind for the better part of her life.

"And though the…the sun may plead and threaten…" she mumbled, her eyes wide. "The moon will," she cackled, "s-stand her…ground…and all...will know the...wonder..." she gulped, "Of my dark...and jewelled sky...when all the world is wrapped in..." She let out a sharp laugh, clutching her sides as she forced out the choked melody. "An...eternal...AN ETERNAL LULLABY!" she screamed out the last words, as her tears continued to flow down her cheeks.

Levana then gripped another bottle in her fist and threw it against the wall, where it shattered into a million pieces, some glass shards cutting thin lines in her palm. Booze ran down in fizzy bursts, the smell intoxicating. She went over to the bookshelf and pushed it over, making the books fly everywhere. Once the dust settled, a volume in particular opened up and caught Levana's eye. She picked it up and scanned the brick―it was a copy of the bible.

How strange, she thought. Their family had never been of the religious sort. She had never even seen Channary pray. So why a bible? Before she could make sense of it, though, her hand came across a pocket in the back of the volume, housing a small silver dagger. The hilt of the blade was embedded with rubies. Along with it was a folded page of the book, and she held the dagger in her palm, as if it were her protector.  
**_  
To open the blind eyes, to bring out the prisoners from the prison, and them that sit in darkness out of the prison house." _****_―_****_Isaiah 42:7_**

Levana read the passage over and over again, her grip tightening on the blade of the dagger. A mad grin made its way from her eyes to her mouth. Every word became ingrained in her mind. Chuckling, she ripped the page out and threw the rest of the book in the crackling flames.

_Amen, sister._

Someone should pay for their sins. And she knew exactly who would.

* * *

Evret let out a tired groan as he slumped on his bed, exhausted from the day's work. The guards had been feverishly searching every inch of the palace for the cause of the fire, for the queen's murderer. The higher-ranking thaumaturges were glued to their heels, barking orders left and right; Sybil above anyone else. He had never seen the thaumaturge so stressed and on edge. She seemed ready to kill the entire guard by the time their shift ended.

He lied down and stared up at the ceiling, breathing deeply. He listened intently to the ticking of the clock, a hypnotic lull that made him sleepy.

"Evret Hayle."

He jumped at the sound of his name, his eyes widening as he took in the woman standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a hand on her hip.

"Your Highness?" he asked in disbelief as Levana sauntered over to him, the short skirt of her dress brushing over her thighs, and Evret nearly licked his lips at the sight of her pale legs. He stood, taking a step forward.

"Don't you 'Your Highness' me, you _bastard,_" she slurred. As quick as lightning, she grabbed him by his shirt collar and pushed him against a wall, pressing her body against his. Evret felt a pang of fear at the princess' cold glare, filled with hatred, but having her so close—with her teasing warmth and the feeling of her soft breasts against his chest—dispelled the thought instantly.

She took him by surprise as she slammed her lips on his, sticking her tongue in his mouth, running it over his teeth. He stayed there for a moment, frozen, before grabbing her roughly by the shoulders and kissing her back with primal intensity. He relished in the taste of her, just as sweet as he remembered, save for the strong, bitter tang of alcohol. His eyes widened. Levana _drank_? He couldn't imagine her—sweet, innocent Levana—_ever_ drinking such hard liquor.

But even in her drunken state, Evret didn't push her away. He didn't stop her as she continued to kiss him, open-mouthed and hot, running her hands through his hair. His calloused hands ran down the length of her body, and he hiked up her skirt, fingers brushing the band of her lacy panties.

Levana mewled softly, gripping the back of his neck. Whether it was in protest or approval, he wasn't sure; not that he really cared. His mouth ground into hers, taking what he wanted, what he needed.

He was oblivious to what was happening. Levana continued to kiss him, her left hand slithering down her body, gripping the dagger tied to her thigh. Evret had no idea what was coming. Last time she didn't fight hard enough. This time, though, she would.

She slipped the dagger from under her dress and plunged it straight into the guard's heart. He tried to fight her, but the shock of the sudden, direct hit was too much—he couldn't match her. He was bigger, but she was more agile. She wanted to win more.

Again and again, she forced the dagger into his heart the way he had forced himself into her. She dedicated each cut: For Malissa. _Stab_. For Saito. _Stab_. For Selene. _Stab_. For every tormented slave on that lunar hell. _Stab, stab, stab._

She couldn't even see what she was doing. All she knew was rage, and panic, and darkness. Once Evret was most certainly dead, she let his body fall to the floor like a sack of potatoes, the dagger dripping with blood and staining her dress. Levana laughed, dropping to her knees beside the corpse. With another cackle, she stabbed him again and again, blood spurts landing warm and sticky on her cheeks.

She didn't even hear her come in through the carnage. Only when a mug of coffee dropped to the ground did she look up, met with Sybil's startled eyes.

"Levana, what in the world…what is this?!"

Levana wiped the blood away with her sleeve, standing. "I killed him, Sybil." She looked down at the body as if it were a work of art. "I killed him."

Sybil backed away, ready to make a run for it. Before she could, though, Levana threw an arm around Sybil's neck and brought the dagger to her jugular, ready to cut. "Oh no, you don't. You're not going anywhere," she spat, her breath rancid from the alcohol.

Sybil gulped, her body trembling with fear. "Levana, I promise, I won't tell anyone…just let me go…"

Levana laughed, her fingernails scratching against the rubies on the hilt. "You'd better not, if you want to keep your life," she grinned, bringing the blade up to Sybil's lips, "or your tongue."

Sybil let out a cry of pain as Levana gripped her by the coat and threw her to the ground. The princess put a foot on Sybil's back, pinning her down. "I won't…I would never," Sybil gasped.

"Of course you won't. Because I'm queen now—Channary's dead. Your loyalty now lies with me." She let out another giggle. "_I _made sure of that."

Sybil's eyed widened. "You…you didn't."

"Oh, but I did. You _know_ that I did."

"I should've known," Sybil said, shaking off Levana's foot and sitting up. "Levana, I know that you're mad and scared, but _please_, don't continue down this path. Don't turn to murder. Don't become the next Channary," she begged. "This isn't you, and you know it."

"WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY WHAT IS AND ISN"T ME?!" Levana roared, making Sybil jump. The princess' face was contorted with rage, her cheeks blotchy around the scars. Her gloved hands were clenched into fists, choking the dagger as if it was Sybil's throat.

"Princess…"

"Princess? _Princess_? You seem to be forgetting, Sybil, that I am your new _queen_." She grinned again, her anger replaced with mad glee. "There is no more _Princess Levana._ She was nothing but a pathetic child, unable to defend herself from the most minor of threats. She died with Channary and Selene; she burned in the fire. All that's left now is me, the beautiful Queen Levana!" she exclaimed, breaking into a fit of giggles. "And _nothing_ you say will ever change that!"

Sybil stood, tears running down her cheeks. "Levana, you don't have to do this." She wiped her eyes. "And no. This," she gestured to Levana, "new you isn't beautiful. None of this is beautiful. Murder _is not_ _beautiful_."

Levana's anger lit her face again, and she turned to the mirror on the far wall, every scar on her face, every burn making her shake with rage. The sight of her metal arm was her breaking point, and she screamed, covering her mouth. It was too much. Too, too much.

"I _AM_ BEAUTIFUL!" she screamed, grabbing the nearest object—a lamp on the desk—and throwing it at the mirror, watching with glee as it made a spider-web crack on the surface. Sybil stood back, terrified, as she watched Levana hurl every object in sight at the mirror, until there was nothing left but a metal frame. "I AM THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN ON LUNA, AND YOU KNOW IT!"

Sybil began to sob. Where were the guards? Surely someone must've heard that…

Levana faced her, her eyes wide. The glint of insanity shook Sybil to the core. "You will never tell anyone about this, or Channary. If you do, so help me God, I will go after your family and kill every puny person that you care about."

"Levana…_don__'__t__…_"

Levana took a deep breath, the glimmer of Sybil's bioelectricity rolling off of her in waves. Her energy was twisted with fear, and Levana smiled. She had never tortured anyone before. She had never used her glamour other than to hide beneath a mask. She became intimately acquainted with Sybil's energy, feeling a power like no other rushing through her veins.

She was lunar. She was gifted. Now, it was time to use it.

When Sybil lunged forward in a ditch effort to protect herself, Levana seized her mind and attacked.


	34. Chapter 33

Sybil had never felt such terror.

Not even as she watched Levana rot away from the pestilence, not even as she stumbled into countless corpses in the palace catacombs.

_(no don't look at me you're scary let me out let me out let me out)_

The picture was much too vivid to be a dream. She could hear every scream and plea for help, and could feel warm blood trickling down her throat. She was tied to what seemed like a stake, her parents and brothers lying dead around her, their organs and limbs sprawled around like confetti. A faceless figure stood before her, forcing a goblet full of her family's blood to her lips. The taste of iron was the most vile thing that had ever assaulted her tongue, even worse than Aimery's cooking.

_(oh god it's so thick so hot so gross I think I'm gonna be sick please help me please stop oh god)_

She couldn't see anything outside of her mind's eye, nothing in reality. She couldn't see Levana's face, as white as a sheet as she twisted Sybil's mind deeper into the nightmare, with no remorse. Levana had never envisioned such a feeling—absolute control, absolute power. She watched with glee as Sybil writhed on the floor, gripping her hair at the root, as if she were about to tear it out.

_(oh yes it hurts doesn't it scream for me I want to hear your pain doesn't it hurt)_

Having grown bored, Levana released the thaumaturge's mind. Sybil immediately curled up on herself, her sobs dwindling to whimpers. Her skin was feverish and her body trembled, beads of sweat running down the nape of her neck.

"Now, Sybil, what do you say when I ask you who is the most beautiful?"

"You, Your Highness," Sybil managed to croak, brushing back her damp hair.

"Your _Majesty,_" Levana corrected, her bloodstained cheeks flushing with anger. "I am the queen now; you shall address me as such, and I advise that you tell your comrades to do the same."

Sybil whimpered, wrapping her arms around her chest. "My Queen…"

Levana smiled. "That's much better." Her gaze spanned around the guard's room, at Evret's corpse, at the remains of the mirror on the floor.

_(you're so ugly you're hideous you monster you demon you MURDERER)_

"Have this room blocked off from the rest of the guard and get rid of the body as soon as possible," Levana spat, gripping Sybil's mind and forcing her to her feet. The thaumaturge moaned. "And see to it that Sir Westerguard is upgraded to captain."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Sybil rasped, cringing in pain.

Levana picked up a tiny piece of the mirror's broken glass, her lips curling in disgust. Tears nearly welled in her eyes, but she managed to stamp them down.

_(oh so disgusting how can you stand yourself you're so ugly you should just die)_

"I want every single mirror in the palace destroyed. Smash them, throw them in the lake, in the catacombs―I don't care, just get them out of my sight. I want every mirror in Artemisia gone, do you hear me? _Every. Single. One._" She threw the shard away, her eyes mad and wild and feral. "Have all the windows and glass replaced with non-reflective material. I don't ever want to see my reflection!" she roared, her nostrils flaring.

Sybil wiped her tears away on her sleeve. "Is that…is that even possible?"

Levana cocked her head again, like a wooden puppet. "I don't care if it isn't possible―_make _it possible."

"And if it can't be done?"

Levana smirked, a sick grin that made Sybil's stomach twist in knots. "Then my palace shall have no windows or balconies at all."

* * *

"Your Majesty, if I may, you've been quite absent from this week's meetings," Thaumaturge Marles said, standing in the doorway of what was now Levana's study. The windows were indeed replaced with the same non-reflective material that the domes were made of. All the portraits were gone, the white wallpaper replaced with a violet print.

The regent sat at her new desk, made of polished mahogany instead of glass. "Oh, let the court fret all they want. I'm still on sick leave."

The thaumaturge cleared his throat, the black sleeves of his coat billowing around his wrists. "They insist that you attend today, and that would be most wise―they are becoming quite agitated."

Levana sighed. "Of course they are."

The meeting was held in throne room, per usual. Nothing had really changed―the chandeliers still sparkled, the court still looked grotesque in their multicoloured hairdos and excessively lavish outfits. They looked like aliens straight from Mars. Levana had always hated them. The marble throne was much comfier than Levana had imagined, fit for a lunar queen. It made the court's inane chatter just a little more bearable.

"I'm afraid that your sister's excessive spending has depleted a lot of Artemisia's finances," Hermann Lofter said, standing before the regent, sharp in a grey suit and black mantle. "The city council is in fits, Your Majesty. Should the public find out about this, the results could be disastrous." He cleared his throat. "And as you know, both Luna's economical and political stability are hanging in the balance."

Levana leaned back, her gloved hands folded in her lap. "I am well aware of the council's concerns. Do the outer sectors have any complaints?"

"No, at least for the moment―Elathia has been helping with their food and water supply. Duchess Gwendolyn is pressed for funds, though. She has been awaiting your orders."

"Well, until we manage to scrape up the money, she'll have to wait," Levana said. "I propose that we establish some new taxes―the citizens of Artemisia can certainly afford it."

"But even with tax revenue, the other city-states would be suffering," Hermann continued. "They would only be able to sustain themselves for a decade or so before people start to starve. That's why the majority of us support Queen Channary's search for an earthen alliance."

Levana arched an eyebrow. "An earthen alliance."

"Yes." The majority of the court nodded at Hermann's reply. "There are many possibilities, of course―Emperor Rikan of the Eastern Commonwealth would very much like your signature of the treaty of Bremen."

"You've spoken to him?"

"Just last night, Your Majesty."

She smiled. "And what did he say?"

"He is willing to speak to you over a video-link."

Levana stood, gripping the arm of the throne―_her _throne. "Tell him that I would love to discuss an alliance with him." She crossed her arms over her chest. "But I refuse to go over vid-link. If he wants to speak to me, it's going to have to be face-to-face."

* * *

The trip had taken two days.

Try as she may, Levana couldn't conceal her jitters as the ship blasted through space, closer and closer to the blue planet. She had never left the moon. She had never left home. It was a whole new experience; a whole new world. She knew that she should've been happy―this was her dream, she had always wanted to come, it was finally happening.  
_  
(oh so beautiful it glows so much and look at all the trees the air's so clean oh my)_

But she didn't. She didn't feel happy. She didn't feel elated. If anything, she was afraid. Afraid of all these new people, people that she didn't know how to control. She supposed that their minds were the same as her kind's―Saito's had felt the same as any other that Levana had encountered. But maybe he was different. Maybe the people of Earth knew of her coming, and they were waiting for her at the landing pad with torches and pitchforks. Maybe they would be so many, so far between, that controlling them was impossible. Maybe they would go and trample her like a herd of cattle.

The only thing that calmed her nerves was the assurance that her visit was unknown to the public. They had no idea that she was coming. They had no idea that the queen of their enemies was setting foot on their soil. Emperor Rikan had insisted on keeping their rendezvous a secret. Levana couldn't help but comply.

When Sybil had popped her head into the regent's quarters at half-past noon, Levana felt like her heart was going to tear its way out of her chest. They had arrived. The ship's engine had been cut off, the faint daylight pouring in through Levana's drawn curtains. Her crew was in fits at the prospect of seeing the planet for the themselves, hardly paying any attention to their nervous ruler. Levana stood at the helm of the ship, counting down the seconds until the hatch would open and she would take her first gulp of real air.  
_  
(ah so cold so crisp I love it)_

Impatience clawed at her spine as the ramp descended slowly, so slow, as if to infuriate her. Sybil stood in front with her own guard, both frozen like statues. Levana wished her own body into stillness.

Finally, Sybil and the guard glided down the ramp, seeming completely unfazed by the new world around them. Levana quickly followed, gripping the ramp's rail as if it were a lifeline, afraid that even the slightest thing would make her trip and fall.

_(keep it still keep it steady it's just a ramp you'll be fine don't be a klutz)_

The first thing that she saw was a ball of light, so bright, burning her irises. Her left hand covered her eyes instantly. She let out a little whimper; even behind the darkness, they stung. It took her a moment to recover, and she took a deep breath before uncovering her face, bringing her gloved hand back to her side. It was a little better this time―she blinked rapidly, letting her eyes adjust to the bright daylight.

"Are you alright, Your Majesty?" a second thaumaturge asked, coming up behind her.

"Yes, I'm fine," she croaked. "Just give me a minute."

The thaumaturge nodded, a silent agreement. Levana's gaze spanned the landing pad and the gardens surrounding it as she walked down the rest of the way. A quaint little pond sparkled at the bottom of the terrace's steps, across from the ship. Levana imagined wading in it, wetting her hair, cooling her skin―until the cold autumn air blew down her neck, making her shiver. A lake-swim would have to wait until summertime.

Sybil took her hand and dipped to one knee, bringing Levana's knuckle to her forehead. "Does this meet your expectations, My Queen? Does the Earth please you?"

Levana cocked her head, her eyes glinting with curiosity as she stared at the rustling willow tree, the branches cast downwards like wept tears. "It's beautiful." She diverted her attention back to Sybil, smiling. "Shall we go meet the emperor?"

Sybil kept her gaze on the ground. "I do whatever you desire, My Queen."

* * *

"Your Majesty, this meeting cannot be taken lightly at all," Torin said, speaking to Rikan's back. "This is the first time in over a century that a lunar sovereign sets foot on earthen soil. Please, for the love of all things holy, at least try to keep face in her presence."

Rikan sunk lower into his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. "Torin, I am well aware of the circumstances; this is an essential part of the plan. I just," he let out a groan of frustration, "I just don't know if I can _do_ this! First Channary, and now _her_! Is it ever going to end?"

"The sooner we get Levana's signature on the peace treaty, the safer we'll be. Of course, that'll mean more connections with Luna, and therefore, its queen," said Torin.

Rikan crinkled his nose. "Don't remind me."

"Your Majesty?"

Both Torin and the emperor turned to the servant standing in the doorway, who was looking rather pale and concerned. "Her Highness requests an immediate an immediate audience with you," he stammered.

Rikan sighed. "Give us a minute," he replied.

"If I may, Your Majesty, the princess is rather _demanding_ that you see her." The servant pulled at his collar.

Rikan groaned in exasperation. Torin sent him a curt glare, prompting the young emperor to compose himself.

"Of course. Send her in," he said, barely masking his contempt.

The air around them seemed to thicken as soon as Levana entered the room, her footsteps nothing more than a soft patter. Behind her was her entourage; Sybil Mira, and a second thaumaturge that he didn't recognize. They were both flanked by a guard each, one man and one woman, who both moved like puppets rather than people.

Rikan stared down at the couch, wishing he could just disappear. "If I may, Torin..."

"Of course." The advisor nodded. "I'm sure that you and Her Highness would like some privacy."

Levana glared at him.

"I mean, _Her Majesty_," Torin quickly corrected himself, apologetic.

Levana's lips tightened against her teeth. "Indeed." She looked over at her entourage. "Sybil, same thing for you."

The head thaumaturge nodded, motioning the rest of the guard out with her. "We'll be right outside, My Queen."

Only after the soft clicking of the door could be heard did Rikan look up, bracing himself. The sight of Levana made his stomach lurch.

She was just as exquisite as he remembered―more, even. The young regent's face was a vision of peaceful serenity, an innocent beauty that surpassed even his beloved Empress An. She was a divine goddess, a radiant gem in an otherwise bland and grey world.

For the briefest of moments, Rikan could almost see how Saito had fallen for her.

He jabbed his fingernails into his palms as hard as he could, nearly yelping from the pain. He would not be like his brother. He would not fall for her mind games. He would not fall under her spell.

_No, no, no.  
_  
Levana could feel his resistance, his efforts to keep his mind and heart out of her grasp. She barely held back a haughty smirk. His stubbornness, as annoying as it was, amused her.

She smiled. "What a pleasure it is to see you again, Your Majesty. It is such a shame that our time together was cut short at my sister's coronation. I was looking forward to get to know my future brother-in-law."

Rikan narrowed his eyes. "Brother-in-law?" he asked skeptically,

Levana's lips turned into a playful pout. "Oh, Saito never told you?" she mused, twirling an auburn curl around her finger. "I thought he confided more in you, his brother, but I guess I was wrong." She cocked her head. "But then again, you would've been against the whole thing, so maybe that's why he neglected to inform you of our engagement."

"_Engagement_?!" Rikan managed to choke, a look akin to horror on his face.

Levana held a gloved hand in front of him, a lone ring on her finger. Her eyes bore into his, a persistent warmth behind her gaze. "Lovely gem, isn't it?"

A surge of fury rooted the emperor to the spot, his teeth clenched. "That's...that's Grandmama's ring..." he said, his voice soft and wavering.

"It is?" Levana replied, feigning ignorance. "Well, your grandmother had excellent taste, then."

"Give that back to me!" Rikan shouted, swiping at her. Levana quickly moved back, stumbling like a small bird.

"It's _mine_ now," she sneered, holding her hand to her chest, cradling it protectively. "Your brother gave it to me; it's mine to keep."

"My brother took it from the treasury without consulting anyone. That ring is property of the commonwealth."

Levana scowled. "Do you really want to start war over a ring? I assure you, I have an army waiting back on Luna, ready to attack at my beck and call."

Rikan crossed his arms over his chest, breathing deeply. "I don't want to fight with you."

"Well, then, drop the ring business, and everything will be fine," Levana said, perching herself delicately upon a chair.

The emperor balled his hands into angry fists, lest he accidentally reach out and strangle her.

"Believe me, this meeting is no more pleasant to me as it is to you. Why don't we just play nice and get this over with?"

Rikan sat down at his desk, gripping his netscreen with white knuckles. "Sign the treaty."

Levana clucked her tongue. "I would love to, young emperor, but I'm not going to just sign something all willy-nilly." She leaned back, crossing her legs. "What good would it do me?"

"Don't you want peace?"

"Of course," Levana said. "But that will require further compensation on your part."

Rikan crossed his arms over his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt. "What is it that you'd like, then? Resources? Technology?"

Levana looked at him dead in the eyes, sending a shiver down the emperor's spine. It felt like she was embracing him, cradling him, without even lifting a finger. "Well, to begin, you could drop your repugnant attitude." She folded her hands demurely in her lap. "For there to be an alliance, you must be polite." Her gaze softened. "There must be trust."

Blood rushed to Rikan's head, his body trembling. "Why on earth should I trust you? It's _your_ fault that my brother is dead!" he yelled, slamming his fist on the desk.

Levana looked taken aback, her eyes wide like a doe. Within an instant, though, they narrowed, her hands gripping the silk of her skirt. "_My_ fault? How is it _my_ fault?" she spat, anger rolling off her in waves.

"Oh, don't give me that," Rikan sneered, standing so fast that his chair screeched back. "You're the one who stuck those bullets in his brain!"

The regent's face contorted with rage, her pale cheeks pooling with red from anger, or embarrassment, perhaps. "I _never_ did that. It was Channary. _All of this_ is Channary."

"Yes, that's what my wife said, but you know what, Levana? I don't bestow mercy upon any of your kind. You're guilty. _It's all your fault."_

"No, it's not, I―"

"YES IT IS!" Rikan roared, making Levana jump. "If you had just stayed away from him, with your evil witch powers, he would still be alive! Channary wouldn't have even thought of killing him! All you wanted was to be empress, anyway_, just like_ your sister! You're so _SELFISH_!"

Levana sniffed, visibly upset. "You're wrong, Rikan. I _loved_ him. I still do," she said, trembling.

"Don't make me laugh, Levana. Creatures like you aren't even capable of _love_," he sneered.

At his words, Levana's patience snapped, and with a twitch of her fingers, Rikan dropped to his knees, bowing. He let out a strangled gasp.

"You will show proper respect when addressing the queen of Luna," she said, her gaze growing darker by the second. She stood, sauntering gracefully to his side, putting a hand on his shoulder.

It took a moment for the emperor to recover from his shock. "Might I remind you that you're not yet queen," Rikan sneered.

Levana felt a twitch developing in her right eye. She did not allow him to stand or even raise his head from its lowered, respectful position. "And," she continued as if he hadn't spoken, running a fingernail down his chin, "you do not wish to try my patience, _Your Majesty_."

She let go of his mind and he slapped her hand away immediately, his anger bubbling up inside him. He rose to his full height, trying to make himself as imposing as possible. "Oh, I _do_ wish to try your patience, Levana. I know about your plans; you're the same as your sister, your father before you. If my wife or son are harmed in any way, I swear by my own name, you will never again see the light of your own moon the next time you set foot on my soil."

Levana tilted her head back so she could peer down her nose at him, even though he was taller than she was. "Your threats are empty and meaningless to me, since you could not possibly carry them out. I suggest that you take the time to stamp out your temper and reassess the situation you're in, because anyone can see that I hold all the cards, that I currently have the upper hand."

"Witch," Rikan grumbled. He regretted the word as soon as it left his lips, half expecting the woman to force a knife in his hand and make him cut out his own tongue.

However, Levana just pursed her lips and walked away from him, her violet dress swaying like a breeze over her hips. "Thank you so very much for your time," she said, gripping the handle of the door, her stare as sharp as needles.

Sybil and the rest of her entourage were waiting eagerly outside, eyeing the queen as she slammed the door shut, gliding away, quick as a hare. "Sybil."

"Yes, My Queen?" Sybil said, following posthaste.

"Have the ship prepared to leave within the hour; I don't want to stay on this planet any longer than I have to."

Sybil stopped, the entourage copying her movements. "Of course." She turned around, facing the others. "Come on, you heard her. Fetch the crew."

"You too, Sybil," Levana said, her hands bunched into fists at her side. "I would like a moment alone."

The thaumaturge nodded. "Your wish is my command, Your Majesty." With a curt bow, she followed the rest of her peers, glancing over at the regent with concern.

Once her entourage disappeared around the corner, Levana released a guttural scream, pounding her fists against the wall. Her body thrashed and bucked, as if she were having a seizure. The cool of the marble helped soothe her burning skin as she rested her forehead against it, trying to soothe her ragged breathing.

A sudden flash of colour burst in her vision, making her head snap up and whip around. Her searing gaze set on a little person standing beside her, his eyes wide as saucers.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice small and afraid.

Levana scrunched her nose, taking in the sight of the little boy, dressed in a red jacket and black pants, clutching a wooden spinning top in his small hands. She recognized the child as Prince Kai, heir to the Eastern Commonwealth. Rikan's son.

"What are you doing here?" he asked again.

Levana took a step forward, making him back away in response. She probed his mind, the glimmer of his bioelectricity calling to her like chocolate. His weak little mind was easy to grasp and bend; it was perfect.

"My name is..." she looked up at the ceiling, "...Firecracker. Yes, Firecracker." She smiled.

"Firecracker?" Kai said, perplexed. "That's not a name. That's a thing that goes _bang_." He waved a hand around, mimicking the little bombs. "They go off at the festival each year. I love them."

"Your uncle loved them too."

The prince blinked. "My uncle? I don't have an uncle."

Levana was perplexed for a moment. Of course, Saito had died when the prince was just a baby, so he had no memory of his uncle. Rikan must've never told him anything about his brother. Levana felt a slight ache in her heart. It seemed wrong somehow, as if the emperor were wiping away Saito's existence. Levana fingered her ring. "You don't? I must be mistaken, then."

The boy's eyes narrowed, suspicious. Levana's tender smile made him feel uneasy. "Are you the monster?"

Levana's smile faltered. "What monster?"

"The queen. Queen Leva or something. Papa said that she's a pretty lady from the moon, and that she eats little boys like me." Kai shrunk back, afraid. "Are you going to eat me?"

Levana's eyes smouldered, the familiar rage clawing at her spine, like a tiger in a cage. But even then, with the anger smeared over her face, she was stunning. Her beauty wasn't lost on Kai, who continued to stare at her even though he was shaking in his boots.

"He says that she's a...witch..." Kai trailed off, his eyes wide with wonder.

Levana fluttered her fingers, the motion graceful yet menacing. She gripped his mind, his waves, twisting them with ease. "Why don't you go back to your mommy?"

Kai nodded slowly, his shaggy black hair flopping with every shift of his head. "Yeah. She's waiting for me. We're going to read stories together."

Levana smiled kindly as she watched the child waddle away, in a stupor. Once he disappeared from sight and his footsteps faded away, her motherly mask tore away, her fingers itching to strangle someone. "Witch..." she sneered, her blood boiling. "What the hell does _he_ know?!"

In her anger, she bunched the skirt of her dress in clenched fists, tearing down the halls with long strides. She had to leave. She couldn't stand another minute on Earth, in that palace. She paused once she reached the frosted glass doors to the landing pad, where her ship was waiting. The glass gave no hint at her reflection. Her brow furrowed. "You've messed with the wrong lunar," she whispered, glancing up at the statues on the ceiling, looking down at her with prying eyes. "I promise you, Rikan―you're going to regret this day _forever_."

She fiddled with her left wrist, until she gripped the portscreen tied around it. With a flick, the tiny device came to life, the screen hovering like a hologram. "Establish voicelink with Dr. Amaryely, head of pharmaceuticals," she commanded.

The screen pinged, a spinning globe lighting up the display. "Dr. Amaryely speaking," a voice said, light and lyrical. "How may I help you, My Queen?"

"It's time." Levana grinned. "Launch operation 65789; Codename: Letumosis."

She heard a slight gulp on the other end. "_The_ operation 65789? Your father's plan?"

"What else?"

A few clicking sounds. "Of course, Your Majesty. Consider it done."

With a slight giggle, Levana disconnected the link, tucking her portscreen back into her sleeve. Her laughter soon turned to full-out cackling. Cackling, cackling, the sight of Rikan, of his son, his wife―all dying―filling her mind. All of his people. All of Earth's people. All their blood shed.

They wouldn't even have time to beg for mercy. Her father's creation would bring them all to

their knees, while she would enjoy their suffering over wine and chocolate.

It was coming for them; the world's newest, most deadly pestilence.


	35. Chapter 34

The day of her coronation had finally arrived.

Unlike the previous ceremony four years ago, Levana had insisted on keeping it a small and private affair, limited to the lunar court and the higher ranking thaumaturges. No outsiders, no earthen; only the people who insisted on seeing their princess claim the throne. Most certainly not a ball, either. She didn't need another reminder of her sister's horrid party.

Levana had been kept up all night by nightmares of the fire, and it was a miracle that she was able to keep her glamour up at all that day. The whole morning was a rush of dress fitting and final consultations; by lunchtime, Levana wanted to stick a bullet in the next servant who dared bring her back to reality.

The feeling was only intensified as her seamstress helped her into her dress that afternoon, nattering on about trivial matters, things that Levana could care less about. The woman wouldn't stop talking. Luckily, her three handmaidens weren't nearly as chatty, leaving Levana to sulk in peace as they twisted her hair into an elaborate updo laced with pearls and soft asphodel blossoms. The scent of burning artemisia wafted through the air, the herbal concoction acting as a sedative to all in the room.

"You look beautiful, Your Majesty," one of the handmaidens said, securing the last of the pins in Levana's hair. The queen-to-be blinked, cocking her head. The empty frame of the vanity gave no hint of her reflection.

"I am, aren't I?" Levana said, a smile tugging at her blood-red lips.

The handmaidens all nodded, stepping back. Levana gently ran a finger across the tiny gems incrusted next to her eyes, enhancing her eye-shadow. Her delicate grin turned into a pout as she came upon a slight ridge in her flesh, a scar beneath the pure white of her glamour. A sudden surge of anger, or fear, perhaps, made itself known in the pits of her belly.

"Leave me," she commanded, her hand gesturing towards the door. Her handmaidens bowed and left. Even after their footsteps could no longer be heard in the hall, Levana still sat there, frozen on her settee, her lips tightened against her teeth.

"Levana?"

The monarch sighed, bunching her hands into fists. "What do you need, Akiho?"

Akiho clasped her prongs together. "I'm just…I'm worried about you."

Levana arched a slender eyebrow. "Whatever for, Akiho?" She grinned, a smile showing her pretty white teeth. "I've never been better."

"You're scaring me, Levana, you're…you're different. And not in a good way."

"Different? Of course I am, dear. I'm beautiful now," Levana said, her voice light and lyrical, like that of a siren. She put a gloved finger to her plump lips, deep and velvety with her glamour. As soon as she had awoken that morning, she had slipped into a second skin, just like her own, but without the scars, without the burns. Soft cheeks with a gentle blush, her nose no longer sprinkled with those pesky, childish freckles. The bodice of her gown was designed specifically for her figure, defining her waist and enhancing her breasts. For the first time in her life, she felt grown up, like a woman.

_(ah all the men will admire me they__'__ll want me how could they not)_

Akiho's sensor flashed. "You don't _look_ any different to me. But your attitude sure is."

Levana's head snapped back, her deadly gaze seeming to bore holes through Akiho's head. Her lips curled into a sneer. Of course, she had forgotten that the android could see through her illusion, having no bioelectricity and all.

"Not that you aren't already beautiful," Akiho added sheepishly, holding her arms behind her back.

Levana rolled her eyes, turning her back on the android. A mad grin made its way to her face, and she gently traced her fingers along the frothy silk of her skirt. "I feel pretty, oh so pretty..." she hummed.

"Levana, quit it! You're freaking me out!" Akiho whimpered.

Levana quickly bounced to feet, pushing her chair aside. "I feel pretty, and witty, and bright! And I pity, any girl who isn't me tonight!" she continued, her sickeningly sweet voice rising to a crescendo. The skirt of her dress billowed around her legs as she spun around the room, like a world-class ballerina, pirouette after pirouette.

_(one step forward one step back don__'__t be a klutz you__'__re the most graceful in all the land)_

Levana let out a shriek as her heel suddenly skid back, slipping around like it had a mind of its own. She tripped on the hem of her gown, toppling over and landing on her rear. She let out a moan, the impact surely having bruised her tailbone. "Ow…" she hissed, rubbing her backside in an effort to soothe the pain.

"Levana! Are you okay?!" Akiho asked, her voice flooded with concern.

Levana made a face, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Quick as lightning, she rose to her feet, brushing the non-existent dust from her gown. "It was nothing," she spat.

"You should maybe refrain from dancing in heels," Akiho said.

The queen-to-be stared down at the floor, her feet donning crystalline slippers incrusted with lunar diamonds. "You dare mock me?" she said, carefully enunciating each word.

"What? No, of course not, I just—"

Levana grabbed the android by the arm and forced her onto her desk, tearing the back panel off Akiho's body. "Wait, what are you doing?! Let me go!" Akiho shrieked, her fans whirring, trying to keep her from overheating.

"Don't be insolent with me, you little _twit_," Levana spat, staring at the android's flashing sensor.

"Levana, why are you doing this?! Why are you much like her, why are you—"

"Oh, stop comparing me to Channary! I am not at all like her, so stop saying that I am!" Levana barked, her eyes like fire.

"You're acting like a _monster_!"

Levana froze, her sharp nails digging into Akiho's exposed mechanics. Her breathing was heavy, making her chest heave. "A _monster_?" she said, her lips trembling. "A MONSTER?! Well, then, let me show you just how _MONSTROUS_ I can be!"

Akiho cried out as Levana grabbed a pair of sharp silver tweezers, digging through the android's chest cavity until she gripped her tiny black personality chip wrapped in multicoloured wires. With a pull of her wrist the chip came free, tearing the wires out in a light show akin to fireworks. A moan of distress escaped the android's strained voice-box, her sensor slowly fading with every second that passed. Tiny bolts and screws toppled down and bounced around on the wooden desktop.

Levana didn't even realize what she had done until she stared back at Akiho's blank white face, the life gone from her glass display. Motionless. Unblinking. Her fans had stopped whirring, her internal computers had stopped beeping.

Akiho was dead, as dead as a machine could be. The exposed wires continued to spark, leaving black scuffs on Levana's pristine gloves. For the shortest of moments, she snapped out of her vengeful state, and what little remained of her heart shattered into a million pieces.

Akiho was gone. Even if she could magically reboot her, there was no guarantee that Akiho would be the same. Parts would be missing. Possibly the memories; all the good times, gone. Was it really worth bringing all the pain back?

_(oh stars I__'__m so sorry what have I done oh you never deserved this no please don__'__t go come back I didn__'__t mean to)_

Levana let a single tear escape before catching herself, wiping it away with a gloved hand and placing the tweezers and screwdriver down. She gently picked up the worthless personality chip and cradled it to her chest, muttering 'sorry' over and over again. With a single motion, she popped it in the ROM drive of her netscreen, her chest heaving.

_Access memory? _The screen read, code scrawling across the bottom.

Levana cried softly as she swiped her fingers across the screen, a far cry from falling apart completely. Her finger felt like lead as she pressed down on a single flashing button—the off switch, the delete key, the end. The end to everything.

_Data successfully erased._

Akiho would no longer remember anything. Not even her own name. Everything that she was is gone. Levana let out a choked sob. Of course, it was better that way. Akiho deserved so much better than a killer.

_(I__'__m a monster killer murderer evil witch crybaby pathetic weakling CRYBABY LEVANA)_

Her body continued to tremble as she searched through the back of her new closet, amongst the plethora of gowns and dresses, amongst the army of exquisite shoes. Behind the fifth rack was a lone black box, made of some sort of cardboard. Akiho's box, the one that she had found the android packed in so many years ago. Levana didn't know why she kept it.

_(someday we__'__ll go to Earth together and we__'__ll be happy I promise with Saito and you__'__ll have so many friends Akiho I promise)_

Taking Akiho apart was the painful of tortures, every snap of plastic and disconnected joint making Levana's stomach ache. Whether it was from sadness or guilt was debatable, but either way it made her want to hurl. She gently placed the parts in their appropriate places in the box, kissing each one as they went away. A bulbous head, a gleaming white chest, two arms, two rubber treads. The wiped personality chip was the last part to be packed, then the box was taped up and sealed. Levana stuck a blank label on it, scrawling down a simple instruction.

**—PACKAGE TO BE SENT TO EARTH BY ORDER OF THE QUEEN—**

Surely Akiho would find a good home on the blue planet. Surely there was some lone mechanic who would be willing to fix her up and give her a shot. As a servant, or a domestic companion, perhaps. She would be happier there anyway, away from her murderous mistress and her tyrannic regime. Levana kept thinking this, trying to justify what she what just done, despite knowing that she had just killed yet another person.

A toil of bells in the distance caught Levana's attention, and she left the box by her bedroom door before peering out a massive window. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of the palace chapel, of all the court members going inside for a coronation. _Her_ coronation. Levana quickly changed her soiled white gloves in favour of black ones. They went much better with her midnight-blue gown and ebony mantle. More threatening. More menacing. More her.

The white was the princess. The black was the queen.

_Queen Levana__…_

* * *

Levana's palms were sweaty as she was escorted down the aisle in a similar fashion as Channary had been, flanked by a bishop and the procession of thaumaturges behind her. Sybil was cold and distant, like she should be. Levana barely bit back a smirk. She had done quite the number on her, hadn't she?

_(ah finally yes the crown is mine look at it it__'__s so shiny and pretty oh my)_

Levana moved like a robot as the traditional hymn ended and the crown was placed atop her head, a heavy piece made of solid black regolith and inlaid with diamonds and crystal; a crown fit for a queen. The bishop then presented her with the gleaming orb and sceptre. Levana moved to take them, until the bishop cleared his throat, eyeing her gloved hands.

Levana barely restrained the urge to roll her eyes, a pang of both annoyance and concern making its presence known in her belly. She slowly removed left glove, then her right—the first glint of metal nearly drove her in a frenzy. With a slight gulp, she pulled off the rest of the sheath, holding her breath. But the bishop saw nothing. The congregation saw nothing.

Nothing but soft pale skin, her fingernails painted with shimmering black. Levana made sure of that. She wasn't a cyborg in their presence. She wasn't a freak of nature in their presence.

She was the most beautiful queen Luna had ever known.

Setting her gloves down on the cushion, she took the royal orb and sceptre in her hands, feeling both vulnerable and powerful.

"Hic hodie in publicam testificationem et omnes Lunares, moneo te hereditate nata cum virtute. Ego præcipio tibi, et protegens tua munus regendi populum ducere ad prosperite."

(Here, on this day, under the witness of God and all the Lunar Kingdom, I charge you with the power that you have inherited by your birthright. I charge you with the duty of governing and protecting your people, of leading them to wealth and prosperity.)

As the bishop spoke, she eyed the people with disdain, with full-on hatred.

_Queen Levana__…_

How she longed to be human, to be loved as human, by humans. Love was something she had never known. Not really. Who could ever love something so hideous, so patched up that it was an outcast in both heaven and earth?

_Queen Levana__…_

Oh, how long she had fought, resisted. So many years had passed before she finally fell into the cycle of tyranny that her bloodline demanded. It was so_ easy_! There were times when she could just imagine some foul demon from within pushing out, with it's tentacles of insatiable need for sadistic pleasure. With the sufferings of others the only way to slake her desires, how long could she hold out? Would she forever be trapped in the whims of others without even a shred of respect to her name?

"Et incarnatus est penes me, et ego in hoc tibi coronam, la Regina Levana di Luna!"

(By the power vested in me, I hereby crown you, Queen Levana of Luna!)

"Queen Levana of Luna!" the crowd shouted in unison.

No. She would not go about the rest of her miserable life as a slave, a pawn. She would use the demon within her to execute a new plan to right the universe, one that would redefine the meaning of a 'lunar threat to Earth.' And she would not serve it, IT would serve HER!

_Queen Levana__…_

All her life, she had fought against her family, her culture, her blood. She had tried so desperately not to become the very thing she loathed. She had never wanted to be a queen, to be like Channary. Although they were as different as night is from day, they were blood, and nothing, not any force in the universe, could ever change that. She had followed in her sister's footsteps without even noticing where she was going, and then she found herself there. In front of the altar, being named queen, where her sister had stood a mere three years before.

Ah yes, Channary, her big sister. She remembered their first encounter so very well. Channary had kicked and screamed, calling her 'stupid' and 'ugly'. Levana had barely been alive for an hour and Channary had already loathed her, a defenceless baby.

_Queen Levana__…_

Channary had always treated her like nothing, like a slave. No, even _slaves_ were treated better than Levana was. The queen would call her filth, dirt. Yes, Levana was filth alright, but so was Channary. Both were poison, only Channary's was more concentrated, refined by years of abusive glamour and scheming.

Channary had killed everyone Levana cared about, everyone she loved. She had taken everything from her, whether it be her daughter or her dignity. Finally, she just couldn't take it anymore! She snapped, and rose up in revolt, in rebellion. She became just like her sister—a murderer, a tyrant—but by that point, she no longer cared. So what if her people hated her? She knew that they would never accept her as their queen, as an ally. She knew that they would never even see her as a _human being_.

_Queen Levana__…_

But she didn't care. Oh no, she didn't care at all. After all, she didn't _choose_ to be queen. Technically, she wasn't yet old enough to assume the throne, but Channary had left Luna in such political turmoil that they had to have a monarch, lest the people rise up in revolt, which would be catastrophic. So, at the ripe age of twenty-three, Levana was crowned queen of Luna, a position which, when she was younger, would've rather died than claim. However, that was before. Before Channary killed Saito and Selene, before Akiho was destroyed.

And as she put down the orb and sceptre, folded her hands in front of her and turned around to face the people, she eyed every single one of them with masked contempt, not seeing them as her subjects, but as her prey.

She barely bit back a smirk.

Her rule would be a game of predator and prey, and this time, it was _her_ turn to play the predator. It was her time to pull the reigns. She would tell them what to do. She would control them, and they would obey her orders without question.

After all, was it not within her right?

_Queen Levana__…_

She walked calmly down the aisle that spanned the middle of the lavish chapel, staring straight ahead, not paying any of the people in the pews any mind. She pretended that they didn't exist, just like they had pretended that she didn't, for all those years.

A couple of guards opened the regolith doors, the entourage of thaumaturges stepping through and lining up outside it, ready to give Levana her first greeting as queen.

The sovereign walked out into Artemisia's artificial sunlight, the rays caught in her shimmering auburn hair, giving it the illusion of freshly-fallen autumn leaves. All the thaumaturges dropped down on one knee, their eyes respectfully averted from Levana's lithe figure, their resonating chants of 'long live the queen!' rising up in the air.

Her fiery gaze settled on the blue orb hanging in the sky, a prize that she was just waiting to claim. A mad grin spread across her face, and the applause seemed to roar even more.

Queen Levana. Queen Levana. _Queen Levana._

The name sounded even better than she had ever imagined.


	36. Epilogue

**—****EPILOGUE****—**

_Trapped in her celestial prison, the younger sister was soon forgotten by the people of Earth, _  
_simply known as an old legend__—__the maiden in the moon._

* * *

She tried to scream, but all she let out was a coughing wheeze. She fell and fell, lurching further into oblivion. Every time she would brace herself, say _this is it_, but the end never came. She never reached the bottom, where she would inevitably shatter into pieces.

Was this it, then? Was she doomed to just fall forever through this bottomless pit?

A soft buzzing filled her empty chest, surrounded by frayed wires and sparking parts that clattered everywhere. Her metal prongs bunched into fists, her sensor flashing erratically.

_Help_.

She screamed and screamed, but no one heard a thing. She was drowning, she was burning, she was dying. Stuck in her disintegrating body, there was nothing she could do. The glass on her face started to shatter, forming spiderweb cracks over the smooth surface. This feeling, such helplessness—it seemed so familiar. As if she had gone through this before.

_Akiho, look at this!_

Her head snapped around at the sound, searching frantically for the voice. It echoed through the space, cutting through the looming silence. Her systems began to smoke and spark, overheated.

_Isn't this the best?_

"Wha...what is it? Who are you?" she managed to croak.

_Akiho!_

"Who's Akiho?" she said, louder this time. The name struck a chord in her chaotic mind. Was it her own?

A sudden flash came in her view, the hazy image of a girl floating right outside her reach. She could make out pale skin, a trace of red hair before it disappeared. A second one popped up, and then another—all of the same girl. In one, she was a child; in another, she grown. In one, she was smiling; in another, she was crying.

She wanted to reach out to the girl, but every time, the image would escape, replaced with another, until she was surrounded by hundreds of voices and pictures. The whole collage spun around in a blur of colour, making her head swim.

She wanted to scream again, but she realized in horror that her voice-box had been torn out along with other parts, the metal bits left to fly in the emptiness. What little strength she had was quickly draining, leaving her too weak to even flail her spindly arms. An explosion of light burst from below, and she glanced down, shrieking soundlessly. A pit of fire roared, the flames curling and licking up, trying to snatch her. She braced herself for impact, for her inevitable death, the smoke flooding her ravaged mechanics.

_Please, please, help!_

She prayed and cried, her voice falling on dead ears. Just as she felt the first attacks from the heat, the fire disappeared, extinguished by a sudden downpour of water, cool and icy. She looked above her, where black clouds gathered like a thunderstorm, weeping streams of never-ending rain. She blinked and gasped internally as the sensation of falling ceased, but there was no thud, no impact.

Instead, it seemed like someone had caught her, a gentle hand lifting her through the thick clouds and showers, bringing her back up to a soft light. Back through the collage of images—whether they were illusions or memories, she didn't know. Not that it really mattered. The girl's voice assaulted her hearing interface once again, words falling and swirling around her like soup. Letters, letters on a string, no longer making sense. As she rose up further, the girl's voice faded, buried under debris and smoke, never to break free.

With a sigh, she relaxed against the invisible hand, letting the fire, the pictures, the thoughts escape and tumble down the bottomless abyss; until every trace of the girl, every trace of her broken memories were gone.

Before long, the light grew blindingly bright, and she tried to cover her sensor. The rays attacked her sight, and she once again longed to escape, screaming words of silence, more letters, more moans. The hand never stopped, pushing her up into the glowing. She didn't know which was worse: the blinding of the light or the burning of the fire.

But, as suddenly as it came, the light flashed away, replaced with pitch black. She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all. When would it finally end? Numbers crawled across her vision, code that she once understood, but was much too dazed to comprehend now. A little dot blinked over and over again, annoying her. _Go away, you,_ she thought.

"Mommy! Is she awake yet?"

She froze at the sound of a voice, a voice she could understand. She would've cried tears of joy if she could. Finally, something that made sense.

"Soon, Peony. Be patient," another voice replied, unmistakably human.

She wished her body into movement, her mind into consciousness. _Wake me up! Please! _

"You hear that, Iko? You're gonna wake up soon, and then we'll be able to play!"

_Yes, yes! I want to play!_

"Oh, look! She's moving!" a third voice exclaimed, and she felt a finger tap her solid chest.

If she had eyebrows, they would be furrowed in confusion. Who was Iko? And how was the voice touching her chest? She tried to find her middle, but all she sensed was a hollow cavity.

Iko. The name was new, completely new. It wasn't hers. But somehow...it felt right. She struggled to remember the old one—what was it that the girl called her?

"Alright," a fourth voice added, considerably deeper than the rest, "she'll be rebooting in three, two..."

She felt hope blossom through her. The slightest thought of her old name blew away in the wind, taking with it the remnants of her memories. Iko. She was Iko now.

"One."

The world came into view so quickly that it threw her back, making the scrawling code flash in warning. A ceiling, with a blaring lamp shining down on her. She was lying on a table of sorts, that much was clear. She let out a gasp, immediately followed by a whimper of relief. Her voice was back.

"Is she okay?"

With surprising ease, she turned her head towards the voice, her gaze setting on the face of a girl, every pixel, every fragment of her perfectly defined and clear. Iko cooed softly, mystified by the face. A second person came into view—a woman, no older than thirty, with lovely raven hair and brown eyes. She seemed kind, gentle.

The woman smiled, an arm draped over her shoulders. The arm, Iko quickly came to realized, belonged to a handsome man standing next to her.

"Hello, Iko," the woman said. "My name is Adri. Welcome to the Linh family."

* * *

**—END—**


End file.
